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Fading signal
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STANLEY fears slashing Radio Australia's Indonesian service will harm Australian diplomacy.
The announcement that Radio Australia was slashing its foreign broadcasts from July 1997 came like a bolt out of the blue for many Indonesians. A disaster! Access to accurate information about their own country and about the world at large had shrunk once more. It had already been shrinking steadily since the banning of Tempo, DeTIK and Editor on 21 June 1994. In the event, the Indonesian service survived, but only just - its transmission hours and staff have been halved.
Indonesians today cannot trust the official news. Repression against journalists and the mass media has coincided with outbreaks of rioting around Indonesia. That is why Indonesians rely on foreign radio broadcasts. Three are the most important sources of information: Radio Australia, the British Broadcasting Corporation, and Radio Netherlands. Since October 1996 these have been complemented by the German service Deutsche Welle, which now broadcasts 100 minutes a day.
Evidence of their popularity: the book 'Banning in the Air', published by Goenawan Mohamad's Institute for the Free Flow of Information (ISAI) is selling like hot cakes. The book collects together Radio Australia, BBC, and Radio Netherlands broadcasts around the theme of press bans.
In the red
Radio Australia's millions of Indonesian listeners find it difficult to accept the given reason for cutting Radio Australia's budget by two thirds, namely that Prime Minister John Howard's national budget is AU$8 billion in the red. Over the decades, so many young people have grown used to listening to its broadcasts on their parents' ancient radio set. They never once heard there was any problem with this radio station, which always covered Asia and the Pacific so sympathetically. Now suddenly the news is that financial management at the radio, which has been transmitting since 1939 and is known as a window on the world, was inadequate.
What lies behind the savage budget-slashing at this radio station, which may altogether have as many as 20 million listeners? The French, Thai and Cantonese services were closed completely. Mandarin, Khmer, Vietnamese, Pijin, English and Indonesian survive on reduced hours. After threatening Radio Australia's complete closure, the government early May relented and said it had found about $8.5 million in kitty, just over a third of the original budget. Was the Australian government ignoring the importance of its neighbouring country of 200 million by threatening to close the Indonesian service? While foreign television broadcasters queued to get in, why was Radio Australia getting out? Wasn't Radio Australia considered the CNN of radio?
Political
Several Indonesians believe there was another agenda behind the slashed Radio Australia funding. 'Determining a budget is a political matter', says Goenawan Mohamad, former editor of Tempo magazine. Other analysts say slashing Radio Australia not only harms the Indonesian people, but also the Australian government itself. 'It is killing off Australian diplomacy in the Asian region', said one.
Many believe that Prime Minister John Howard, who has never felt close to Asia, was the main instigator behind the slash. Some speculate Howard did not like the political line Radio Australia often takes. He thinks it leans towards the opposition Labor Party.
Other indications suggest Howard wants a better relationship with Asian governments, including the Indonesian government, and that he wanted Radio Australia closed because its broadcasts often embarrass officials.
Netherlands
Closing down a foreign broadcast for political reasons but under the guise of financial efficiency is not a new idea. In 1995 the same thing nearly happened to Radio Netherlands. That threat was only averted when thousands of listeners protested. Even prominent Indonesians, including Bishop Belo in East Timor, sent letters of protest to Hilversum in the Netherlands.
Actually, no one seems to know the real reason behind the threatened closure of Radio Netherland's Indonesian service. Nor whether the flood of protest became a real consideration in its reprieve. Yet surely Radio Australia's Indonesian service did not speak loudly enough about the shutdown plans. Even though it did not invite a listener response the way Radio Netherlands did, thousands of Indonesian listeners sent in letters.
Nosedive
Slashing Radio Australia, including the Indonesian section, will rob millions of independent and trustworthy information. The quality of people-to-people relations could nosedive. Some Asia-Pacific peoples will fall further behind in their struggle for democracy in their own country. And of course, some governments considered anti-democratic by their people will smile with pleasure. Military regimes in the Asian region will now more easily keep oppositions under control.
Stanley is a journalist and author in Jakarta.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Gone fishing
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AHMAD SOFIAN explores the lives of young people on hundreds of isolated fishing platforms in the Malacca Straits.
The problem of child labour is not new to Indonesia. Children have long helped in farm or domestic work. But recent economic development has driven capitalists to look to children as sources of cheap labour to push up their profits. Should we just accept this as normal?
One example is the exploitation of child labour on fish traps, or jermal, off the east coast of North Sumatra. This exploitation has been hidden from the public eye for too long.
Jermal
The jermal is a fishing platform at a distance of 15-25 km from the shore. Some are even further out, though others, such as the small fish traps in Langkat waters, are less than 10 km from the beach.Jermal are on average 20 by 40 m in area, but some measure 50x70 m.
About a third of the platform area is occupied by a house. The workers use it to rest, and also for boiling and storing fish. Thejermal is made of planks sawn from the nibong palm, brought from Aceh and Langkat in motor boats. The jermal are built in around 15-30 m of water.
The large fishing nets on the jermal are known astangkul and keroncong, both about 10x20 m in size. These are sunk into the sea under the jermal. Every two hours they are lifted out, emptied and sunk again.
Jermal are found in four regencies in North Sumatra, namely Langkat, Deli Serdang, Labuhan Batu and Asahan. According to data collected by our Study Centre for Child Protection (a non-government organisation in North Sumatra) there were about 1900 jermal in these four regencies in 1995. The North Sumatra Department of Fisheries, however, says it knows of only 369 registered jermal - 23 in Langkat, 81 in Deli Serdang, 192 in Asahan, and 73 in Labuhan Batu. Presumably the department has been unable to keep track of new jermal being built amidst the isolation of the open sea, accounting for their low figures.
Each jermal has on average 6-10 children working on it. If we use the higher number of jermal, observed by the author from several sources, the number of child labourers working on them is 12,000 to 19,000. Even with the Department of Fisheries data, the number would still be around 2,000-3,700.
Jermal are unique to North Sumatra. Elsewhere they are found only in the waters off Cirebon, West Java. But their construction and working system is different from those off North Sumatra.
Daily routine
The total number of workers on a jermal is around 10-16. Of these, six to ten are children aged 14 to 16 years old, and sometimes as young as twelve. There are also foremen and their deputies who supervise the work.
Working hours are not constant. They depend largely upon the seasons, and whether it is high tide (when there are many fish) or low tide (when fish are few and waves big). At high tide, work can start at 2am and not finish until midnight, while at low tide they work from 7am to 3pm.
Workers have to pull in the nets with hand winches in a process called milling. The nets are milled by all hands together, each of them holding a winch, of which there are ten or fifteen on a jermal. Worker safety depends largely upon the cooperation between workers during the mill. It is easy to fall into the sea or be struck by the winch they are holding. In 1995 a jermal labourer off Labuhan Batu fell to the sea and drowned tragically for this reason.
Besides the milling process which is done every two hours, workers have to sort the fish they have caught. Fish are then boiled and dried in the sun. So it goes on every day. There is little time to rest.
Welfare
With such a heavy working burden, jermal owners should pay attention to the workers' welfare. But the reality is quite the reverse. The vegetables, chillies and onions that are dropped from the land once every two weeks are only enough for four to five days. The other days the workers only have rice and fish or cuttlefish. And the foremen only allow them to eat certain fish. If they are found out eating the forbidden fish - valuable large fish such as tuna - their wages will be deducted.
Nor does their salary conform to the high working burden and dangerous risks. jermal child labourers are only paid around Rp 30,000-Rp 75,000 (AU$ 16-42) per month. The amount depends on how long they work and of course, on the mercy of the owners of thejermal. They only receive the money after three months work.
Once every three months the workers may go home to rest for a few days. If they go home before three months are up they get no pay. Often only a few of those who come home to land will want to go back to the jermal. To fill the vacancy the owners pay recruiters to get new child labourers. They sometimes do this by deceiving them with offers of work in factories. To make their work easier, recruiters usually look for their prey around bus terminals, offering homeless children there tantalisingly high salaries.
The description above gives an indication that the problem ofjermal child labour is not only a labour problem. There are at least three aspects to the problem. First, the aspect of human rights, in which there has been an exploitation of the jermal child labourers. Second, the violation of labour law, in which normative stipulations such as minimum wages, maximum hours, and a ban on child labour are not observed. The minimum wage in Sumatra is Rp 4,650 a day, which works out to Rp 139,500 a month if workers take no break. And third, there is the issue of a breakdown in the social system when children aged 14-16 years, who ought to be at school, are forced to work, moreover in a dangerous and isolated place.
Incidents
Until now there has been no serious attempt on the part of the relevant authorities to solve the issue of child labour employed on thejermal off the eastern coast of North Sumatra. Incident after incident occurs. The case is exposed in the mass media, representatives of non-government organisations (NGOs) respond, as do some members of the provincial parliament, and then, tragically, the fuss disappears.
The children working on the jermal still experience the worst forms of exploitation. There is no school for them, and no welfare. The working hours are long, and there are unfriendly waves in bad conditions.
In the period 1993-1996 many cases involving jermal child labour were exposed in the mass media. Many more were never exposed at all. In general a case is exposed when parents complain to the provincial parliament, or when a NGO receives information and conveys it to the press.
One striking event was the escape of four jermal child labourers from Sialang Buah, Deli Serdang, at the end of September 1996. The four were Adi (16), Inan (16), Harun (16) and Mistriadi (17). They came from the villages Air Joman and Bandar Tinggi. They succeeded in saving themselves from the Harapan Jaya jermal by jumping off with a plank. They floated in the Malacca Straits for seven hours before being saved by traditional fishermen. Apparently these four children escaped because of the harsh conditions on the jermal, and because their salary was not paid.
The case was taken up by a commission of North Sumatra's provincial parliament. They accepted the four's complaints, and insisted that action should be taken against the businessman who owned thejermal. Some NGOs in North Sumatra supported the initiative. As a result, an out of court settlement was made between the children's parents and the employer.
Such an escape was not new. In early 1994 two jermal child labourers from the same area also plunged into the Malacca Straits and swam ashore because they had been treated inhumanely. Then in early 1995 four children aged 15 to 16 years penetrated the savages of the sea to escape from their jermal in Labuhan Bilik, Asahan Regency, because they couldn't stand the mistreatment.
In 1994 three children were abducted and sent to work on ajermal off Pantai Labu, Deli Serdang. The three boys were Roy, Lungguk, and Minus. They were tricked into going to work on the jermal by offers of a tantalisingly high salary.
Worker safety is another important issue. There are no safeguards on a jermal. Moreover, the children who work there often do not come from the coastal areas and so cannot imagine what life on one is like.
Dilemma?
Our surveys show that children working on jermal gain almost no economic advantage. In practice they are not working children any more, but children who are forced to work, as forced labour. They lose not only their future because of dropping out of school, but also fail to gain the income expected from the work.
Child labour on the jermal is ugly evidence of the downside of an economic transition characterised by labour surplus and family poverty. Indeed, there is a dilemma between these labour surplus conditions on the one hand, and the demand for the protection of child labour on the other hand. This dilemma creates an obstacle in eradicating child labour.
The pragmatic argument is often made that under these conditions it is better to tolerate the employment of children in jermal and elsewhere. However, though some research claims child labour helps the family economy, in our view it merely makes them sink deeper into exploitation, as the case of the jermal children indicates.
Ahmad Sofian is executive secretary of the Study Centre for Child Protection (Pusat Kajian & Perlindungan Anak, PKPA) in Medan, North Sumatra. The Centre can be contacted at Jl Mustafa no. 30, Medan 20238, North Sumatra, Indonesia, tel +62-61-611943, fax +62-61-613342.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Rock'n'Roll radicals
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DAVID HILL and KRISHNA SEN scour the music shops. They find that foreign music is now as Indonesian as batik. From Hindi film to 'Indie' punk rock, foreign musical genres are being indigenised, and imbued with Indonesian political meaning.
In 1995, total retail sales of recorded music in Indonesia amounted to less than three percent of the USA's US$ 12,880 million. Yet, even ignoring pirated recordings, Indonesia's music market dwarfs those of its neighbours. On 1995 figures, sales in the Philippines were 16 percent and Thailand 65 percent of Indonesia's.
In the early 1980s many recording companies were profiting from pirating cassettes of Western pop music produced without license. In the late 1990s, from its plush office in a prestigious Jakarta skyscraper, the Sound Recording Industry Association of Indonesia (Asiri) promotes a new 'professional' image for the industry, highlighting efforts to eliminate record piracy.
The Association of Indonesian Composers and Musical Arrangers (Pappri) believes that for every legitimate cassette there may still be up to five pirated copies.
But, pirated or legal, foreign music has not overwhelmed local creativity. Rather, the foreign has been indigenised and transformed into something other than a mere copy of an imported product. More importantly, some of the foreign imports have been re interpreted in the Indonesian context to become signifiers of opposition to the New Order.
Dangdut
An influx of Anglo-American recordings after the end of the Sukarno-era in 1965 challenged the Indonesian industry. One response was a reinvigorated attempt to synthesise an identifiably Indonesian modern popular music. By all accounts Rhoma Irama is the central figure in this invention of dangdut as national-popular music.
With his Soneta Group and co-performers like Elvy Sukaesih, Rhoma Irama transformed older-style Malay orchestra music into up-tempo dangdut - dubbed onomatopoeically after its syncopated drum beat,dang then dut. In so doing he became one of the best-paid and most widely recognised contemporary Indonesians.
Rhoma Irama took the rhythmic style of Indian film songs popular with lower class urban Indonesians and transformed it into a national treasure. In the 1980s it was favoured even by the middle classes, and enjoyed the patronage of cabinet ministers. In the 1990s about 35% of total record sales in Indonesia are dangdut.
Some established pop performers adopted dangdut as part of their repertoire since the 1980s. University students saw in it a way of playfully adopting lower class music as a gesture against commercial pop.
Populist
The Armed Forces monthly music program on TVRI, Aneka Ria Puspenhankam Abri, frequently featured dangdut, often played by military bands. State officials began to include dangdut entertainment in formal and social events.
By the mid-1980s dangdut had become an established vehicle for populist politicking, endorsed by the highest levels of government. It is now championed by State Secretary Moerdiono, who declaredthat 'dangdut is of the people, by the people, for the people'. It is, he declared, 'very, very Indonesian'.
Rhoma Irama's attempt to use his music as a medium of Islamic evangelism also made dangdut a point of party political contention. His lyrics, rhythms and performances tapped the early 1980s Muslim resentment against the New Order and were well received by scholars and students in Muslim schools and colleges around the country.
He aligned himself with the Islamic opposition political party, the PPP, campaigning for them in general elections and singing at the rallies. For this allegiance, TVRI blocked his television appearances for most of the 1980s and strict security conditions were applied to his public performances.
But by the 1990s, Rhoma was back on television. His allegiances were shifting too, as he and dangdut were becoming a vehicle for the New Order's rapprochement with the Muslims, finally enacted in the Raja Dangdut's Golkar candidature in the 1997 elections.
Underground
At another point on the Indonesian musical spectrum, 'alternative' or 'underground' bands, closely following the latest global trends in youth culture, operate outside the mainstream recording companies.
They produce their own albums on small independent or 'Indie' labels using strategies and the technology of the 'pirate' cassette producers in the early 1970s. For as little as Rp 1.5 million (AU$800), they can hire a cheap studio (or record 'live' on rented equipment in someone's home) and reproduce in small production runs.
They sell by word of mouth, through a local radio station, at gigs or by mail order, priced to undercut commercial cassette and sometimes even at a loss.
Most are fiercely proud of their creative independence from the major record labels, and of their rejection of middle-of-the-road Indonesian musical styles. They adopt, as one local commentator said, 'creepy whitey-sounding' names like Closeminded, Full of Hate, Insanity, Sonic Torment, Trauma, Koil, Sadistis and so on.
Boomerang
Several underground bands have been absorbed into the mainstream media. Surabaya band Boomerang opened the 'live' Indosiar broadcast of the Gong 2000 concert, staged to celebrate Armed Forces Day, at the former Ancol racing circuit before a crowd of 50,000 on 12 October 1996. But this institutional co-optation does not appear to tame either the radical message of the lyric or the anarchic message of the performance.
The first track on Boomerang's 1996 cassette 'Disharmoni', is a Who-like rock anthem, 'Generasiku' [My Generation], whose gravelly-voiced refrain yells out: 'Raise your hands high/ yell out This is my generation/ raise your hands high/ this is my generation'. It challenges 'those who are sharp-tongued, poisoned/ by ambition and crazy for power/ don't be taken in by their tricks/ this world belongs to us!'.
Another track, 'OKBM', expressly attacks the leaders of the country: 'A million dreams you've offered/ but you've only left frustration/ you've tricked and destroyed me/ you've sucked all my blood dry./ It's false.. everything that you have done for me/ desire [nafsu]... it's only to satisfy your own desire/ .../where are you taking the kids of our country?' And their advice to their fans on their cassette cover: 'enjoy and play it loud, stay crazy okay...!!!' ( in English).
Slank
Perhaps the most successful band bridging 'underground' and 'commercial' genres of popular music is Slank. Since its first album in 1990 it has had a string of 'best selling album' awards and maintained a hold on the commercial Top Ten listings with a mixture of soft sentimental songs and growling angry protests. The sentimental 'Terbunuh sepi' ('Killed by loneliness') rated amongst the ten best video clips on RCTI's Video Musik Indonesia program for 1995-96. By contrast, the title track from their 1995 fourth album (on 'PISS Records'!) is the Led Zeppelin-ish 'Generasi Biru' (Blue Generation).
On their 'Generasi Biru' album is a laid back blues track 'Blues Males' ('Lazy Blues'). The lyric plays on sleep/ sleeping around (tidur/ tidurin), about how great it would be to get a (girl-)friend (the band is all male) from a (powerfully connected) conglomerate, 'so life wouldn't be destitute any longer/ waiting for inheritance while sleeping around.../ If you know the most powerful people/ you can let troubles pass you by/ you can get a well-placed position to sleep around/ .../ a water-bed to sleep around/ a (five-) star hotel to sleep around/ a stack of money for whoever you're screwing'.
In the scribbled song on the cassette cover, the final line is 'Punya jabatan...Buat nidurin bawahan!!!' ('Got a (high) position to screw the underlings!') - the word 'nidurin' struck out but visible through the pen stroke.
Politics and fashion
'Generasi Biru' went 'double platinum' as BASF's largest selling cassette across all musical categories in Indonesia in 1994-95. Slank has diversified to establish a management bureau, recording studio, production house and recording company, as autonomous enterprises.
Slank market research on their first five albums indicated that 43% of the buyers were between 15-19 years old, and 35% between 20 and 24. Fifty-eight percent were males. Though the majority of Slank's fans are in Java their appeal is national, their sales broadly reflecting population densities.
In the 1990s the musical messages about bosses screwing everyone, and indeed screwing up the younger generation, is fashionable, bought and listened to by the thousands of youth (remaja) fans of the 'alternative' music scene. The message and the medium are so much the defining 'taste' of the youth that large recording companies are embracing these bands for the sake of the markets. The anti-authority message, the invitation to disorderliness, underlying the medium may well be more important than the verbal discourse of the songs. Disorder, always the political antithesis of the New Order, is now 'in' for the younger generation.
Summing up
Ever since Sukarno implicated western music into his nationalist rhetoric, in effect banning Anglo American rock, certain forms of foreign music have signified opposition to the ruling regime. Even dangdut, the New Order's 'national music', in some contexts escapes the moral order of the New Order regime. In the late New Order, punk, death metal and other 1990s headbanging genres, adopted from the Euro-American scene, have come to signify a gesture of generational opposition to the ageing regime, led by an old man.
Dr David Hill and Dr Krishna Sen both teach at Murdoch University, Perth, Western Australia. This article is extracted from their forthcoming book on the Indonesian mass media, 'Media culture politics in Indonesia'.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Tolerant or opportunist?
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Greg Barton and Greg Fealy (eds), Nahdlatul Ulama, traditional Islam and modernity in Indonesia, Clayton: Monash University Asia Institute (http://www.monash.edu.a u/mai), 1996, 294+xxvi pp, Rrp AU$29.95.
Reviewed by NELLY VAN DOORN
For a newcomer to Indonesia, the Islamic landscape can be profoundly confusing. Islamic discourse is shaped by different organisations with varied agendas of political, social, economic and religious issues. As the first in English to provide inside information about the history of the Nahdatul Ulama (NU), this book is a great help.
Six long time NU observers trace the process of NU's development after its establishment in 1926 until the present day.
Three chapters analyse NU's relationship with the army (Andree Feillard), its search for a new identity as a radical yet traditional organisation (Mitsuo Nakamura), and how it managed to reinvent itself in the 1980s by returning to the spirit of the strategy (khittah) of its founding fathers (Martin van Bruinessen).
The return meant that NU would strive for the improvement of education, charity (social justice), and economic matters, and that it would work to overcome the Muslim community's backwardness.
Traditionalist Muslims 'follow the great ulama of the past'. Several articles explain how NU ulama managed to condone renewal by using certain methods of interpreting the traditional sources. Highlighting these methods serves to debunk the often heard opinion of NU as an opportunistic club that would bend to the most favourable political wind. For example, the concept of the middle way (tawassuth) implies religious tolerance. It also implies acceptance of Pancasila and for NU to stay on the right side of the government.
Biographies and analyses of the writings of three of NU's most influential leaders give insight into the political thoughts that inspired them. The ulama were the 'ultimate units of authority and autonomy'. Wahab Chasbullah, one of NU's founders whose role in its transformation into a political party always seemed overshadowed by Wahid Hashim's performance, gets due attention. Greg Fealy's article follows him from an enlightened religious teacher to a seasoned, pro-Sukarno politician.
Greg Barton and Douglas Ramage analyse how Achmad Siddiq and Abdurrahman Wahid shaped the reform process that led NU out of its antagonistic position toward the New Order government into a program of social change. Reports of NU congresses, however, testify that the sweeping changes NU underwent were not always taken for granted by the delegates.
Throughout the book the colourful NU figures spring to life. This makes it an excellent source of information for anyone who wants to know what NU stands for, what constitute its differences with the modernists, and what it means to Islam in Indonesia.
Nelly van Doorn teaches at Duta Wacana Christian University, Yogyakarta.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Portrait of a female preacher
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NELLY VAN DOORN discovers a woman preacher revered for her faith and drive, who questions the image of a male-centred Islam.
During the rallies for the 1997 Indonesian general elections, one could witness small groups of Muslim youths visiting the house of Ibu Alfiyah Muhadie in Yogyakarta. Dressed in green campaigning outfits, their motorbikes not yet roaring, they filed through the house, bowing before Ibu Alfiyah to ask her blessing for the upcoming event.
When the campaign turned violent and several youngsters were wounded in skirmishes with members of the opposing Golkar party, a delegation came to ask Ibu Alfiyah's advice: Was it wise to continue campaigning or not? Without hesitation, she said they should continue, because it was one of the few ways available to express their political preference publicly.
Last April Major-General Prabowo Subianto, Suharto's son-in-law, sought her spiritual advice during a self-publicising tour of Muslim dignitaries. Ibu Alfiyah did not hesitate to query him about his family connections.
Muballigha
Ibu Alfiyah is a female Muslim preacher, a muballigha of the 'Aisyiyah movement. She is also a social activist especially interested in women's rights, and one of the leaders of 'Aisyiyah. 'Aisyiyah is the branch for women of the reformist Muhammadiyah movement that at the moment counts around 28 million members.
Founded in 1917, 'Aisyiyah did not start on the basis of lofty theories, but was born out of its environment's needs and the plight of Muslim women. Apart from training female preachers, 'Aisyiyah started out by setting up Muslim pre-schools (frobel) in 1919, the first prayer house (musholla) for women in 1922, and literacy courses for women.
Since then it has initiated scores of other projects such as orphanages, birth clinics, programs for preventive health care, and a school for training nurses. Changing with the needs of the times, 'Aisyiyah has expanded its activities and moved into new areas of work. But in spite of its perpetual growth, its first department, for preaching (tabligh), has remained the most important.
Early life
Ibu Alfiyah was born in Banyumas, Central Java, around 1918, in a devout Muslim family of Qur'an teachers. Her father was a teacher of Islam who spent twelve years in Mecca, where he became acquainted with modernist ideas of Islam.
When he returned to Indonesia, Muhammadiyah had not yet been founded, but he immediately started to disseminate his new-found ideas through his teaching in the Islamic school (pesantren). He passed away when she was only six years old, but Ibu Alfiyah credits her father for instilling into her basic philosophies about religion, ethics and society.
Apart from his religious teaching, he would take her for rides in the countryside and draw her attention to the plight of the poor and undernourished around them. Ibu Alfiyah's mother taught her the Qur'an, and took all the children on the Hajj when Alfiyah was only ten years old. That experience gave her a deep respect for the Prophet Muhammad: 'When I saw all those sand hills that he had to cross in order to spread the message of Islam, I understood how strenuous his mission must have been.'
After finishing elementary school, Alfiyah was sent to Yogyakarta to enter the Muallimat teacher-training school. Muhammadiyah had opened this school in 1924 in order to create female cadre for its 'Aisyiyah movement. During these years Alfiyah was never far from Muhammadiyah, since she boarded with the widow of Achmad Dahlan, its founder.
Liberation
According to Ibu Alfiyah, at that time she devoted herself to intensive Qur'an study and the interpretation of its message. Her whole life she would use this method of self study and interpretation when preparing for a preaching tour or for new projects to be launched by 'Aisyiyah.
After graduating she returned to Banyumas where an 'Aisyiyah branch had just started. Together with the Muhammadiyah school teacher Raden Sudirman (1916-1950 - the future general whose role in the Indonesian army was pivotal during the independence war against the Dutch), and his wife, Ibu Alfiyah went into the villages around Banyumas to preach reformist Islam.
Her message boils down to a type of Islamic liberation theology. According to Ibu Alfiyah, the villagers could be rehabilitated if they would 'open their hearts' and 'use their mental faculties (akal)' to accept God. By becoming a devout Muslim they would understand that in the sight of God everybody is the same. Rich people are not of a higher race than poor people. There is no need to be ashamed of being poor. Apart from this she upholds that the truth should always prevail and never be covered up because of fear.
Excuse not to marry
About this same time, Ibu Alfiyah set up office in her mother's house and hired a secretary in order to disseminate Islamic teaching by writing. She became one of the editors of Suara 'Aisyiyah, the movement's monthly magazine since 1926.
For nearly three decades she expounded her views through this magazine, with topics such as the proper behaviour for a Muslim woman, comments on feminist movements, and the appropriate diet for babies. Alfiyah's office work also served as an excuse not to marry in a hurry, protecting her against the family's frequent nagging about this topic.
When she finally married her batik merchant husband, a Muhammadiyah member, in 1946, she moved to Yogyakarta, to a house near the mosque (the kauman), still one of the strongholds of the movement.
Having three children and a husband did not deter her, however, from embarking on new 'Aisyiyah enterprises. As the movement spread outside Java, its members had to be visited in places like Bengkulu, Padang and Jambi. Since most of the other members were not prepared to take on such long journeys, Alfiyah often undertook them on her own.
Sincerity
It was not until 1966 that 'Aisyiyah became an independent organisation. Yet, in Muhammadiyah parlance, it is still meant to take the position of an Islamic spouse. On the face of it, 'Aisyiyah is indeed a subordinate, somewhat dull affair. By contrast to, for example, the outspoken chairman of Muhammadiyah, Amien Rais, few people can recall the name of 'Aisyiyah's current chairwoman, Elyda Djazman.
This low profile is very much in tune with the women's own desires. According to them, they will lose their sincerity or devotion to the work, their ikhlas, if they are too much in the public eye.
'Aisyiyah's bureaucratic antics leave little room for spontaneous actions. Ibu Alfiyah keeps providing 'Aisyiyah with ideas for new developments, but she admits that at times she had to act on her own.
For example, when most Indonesian Muslims still maintained that birth control was forbidden because the purpose of marriage was to produce offspring, Ibu Alfiyah preached that the Qur'an exhorts believers to take good care of their children. The quality of care diminishes with the number of children a woman bears. Eventually, 'Aisyiyah and Muhammadiyah joined these discussions and officially sanctioned birth control.
PKI
When in late 1965 'Aisyiyah did not dare to approach female communist party (PKI) members, Ibu Alfiyah went to Solo to visit PKI women waiting to be sentenced. They had to be given spiritual advice, she said, 'because they were on their way back to Allah.'
Ibu Alfiyah's compassion for women has occasionally led to involvement in events that took on national dimensions, such as the 'Sum Kuning case.' In 1970 a girl called Sum Kuning was raped by the sons of local dignitaries. The moment this news was known, Ibu Alfiyah went to the hospital to hear the girl's story. She made Sum describe her attackers.
Later, the dignitaries whose sons had committed the rape denounced Sum's story as a lie, and turned a bakso soup seller into the scapegoat. But trying to intimidate Sum into accusing him failed, as Ibu Alfiyah was one of the people who convinced Sum to stick to the truth and not be scared by the high positions of the perpetrators. Ibu Alfiyah served as witness during the court case.
Although her involvement in this case was not condoned by 'Aisyiyah, she convinced them to put up a loudspeaker outside the court room so that the crowds who had gathered on the street could hear what was going on.
Villages
Now, in her old age, Ibu Alfiyah is back in the villages again. Five years ago, 'Aisyiyah started a new project called 'village development'. It strives to empower village women by preaching Islam in such a way that it can be turned into a motivational force toward economic development.
The rest of her time Ibu Alfiyah spends being a consultant to the current leaders of 'Aisyiyah. Her main criticism toward them is that they are too career-minded, and seldom find time to go out and meet with deprived Muslims themselves.
Family
She organises Qur'an studies for muballighat three times a week at her home. She is moved by a deep concern with contemporary family life. She constantly admonishes young mothers not to neglect their kids. She brings her point home by inviting celebrities such as the poet Emha Ainun Najib to her house to answer her questions about subjects such as the moral state of society, and how to prepare kids to face the challenges of modernisation.
It is no wonder that Ibu Alfiyah's life as a preacher has become a model in 'Aisyiyah circles. It is characterised by integrity, honesty, and by the quest to uplift people, both spiritually and in substance. According to Ibu Alfiyah, this is the only way we can live fully on earth, with the ultimate goal: 'To be in paradise together.'
Nelly van Doorn is a Dutch lecturer at Duta Wacana Christian University in Yogyakarta.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
Tags: Profiles
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Army observed
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Robert Lowry, The Armed Forces of Indonesia, Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1996, 283 pp.
Reviewed by RUSSELL MILES
The Armed Forces of Indonesia (Abri) is the first of a series of country studies that will survey a dozen armed forces within the Asia-Pacific region. Retired Colonel Lowry's book is divided into seven main chapters. Chapter 1, 'Defence policy and strategy', notes that Indonesian threat assessment links external and internal threats. Chapter 2, 'Command and control', includes a history of Abri's command structure. Chapter 3 examines each of the services, national police and civil defence.
Chapter 4 covers service personnel, including recruitment, training, career structure, pay and conditions, and morale. Chapter 5 concerns Abri's business interests. Chapter 6 is on internal security, tracing the history of insurgencies and Abri's response, with detailed coverage of the East Timor, Irian Jaya and Aceh campaigns. Chapter 7 is on Abri's socio-political role, examining political relationships, Islamic influences, civic action, and the presidential succession.
National unity
Col Lowry's conclusions centre around the challenge of maintaining national unity while allowing greater liberalisation. He offers the example of East Timor, where the military achievement came at the expense of further alienating the populace. Lowry suggests the failure to allow greater citizen participation in the country's affairs risks the very support that Abri relies on to ensure national defence. However, the contrary course risks the disintegration of the unitary state.
He also wonders if Abri may have become so entrenched in political and business affairs that it is unwilling to abandon this privileged position. Lowry predicts Abri will make some accommodation to liberalisation, while maintaining the existing military-dominated power structure.
Lowry has written extensively on military affairs. He is a graduate of the Indonesian Army Command and Staff College. This experience has allowed him to produce an informative and comprehensive work. The book is well laid out, readable, and includes useful maps and tables. It also includes fascinating anecdotes, such as that the Indonesian Navy has had women command non-combat vessels, something few Western navies can claim.
However, Lowry also makes some arguable observations. For example, he asks why the army's strength is being increased when it faces no external threat. Yet the Indonesian current strength of 210,000, or one uniformed member for every 900 citizens, is relatively small. The book also contains little discussion about Abri's socio-political role at the village level. Yet two thirds of the army's strength is deployed in territorial units.
Russell Miles is an executive member of the Australia Defence Association, Victoria branch.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Lippogate? Not really
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Allegations of influence peddling by Indonesia's Lippo financial group may be unproven, but opened a bigger trail that led elsewhere. JAY LOSHER reports from America.
In the recent national election in the United States, accusations flew between the political parties about illegal campaign contributions. Prominent in the list of questionable contributors was the Lippo Group, one of Indonesia's strongest private banking groups. Still under investigation are members of the Riyadi family who own the group, and employees and former employees.
Investigations are being pursued on multiple fronts. The magnitude of the scandals only became apparent in stages. The story began to unfold just a few weeks before the elections in November 1996. The National Committee of the Democratic Party (DNC) had received contributions of several hundred thousand dollars from an Indonesian gardener in the employ of a realty subsidiary of the Lippo Group in California.
Soft money
Contributions in this range are common to both parties. They are perfectly legal so long as the contributor is a US citizen or legal resident, and so long as the contribution is not designated for any particular candidate but rather for building up the political party as a whole.
A little instruction in the arcane campaign finance laws of the United States is in order. The laws place strict limits on what corporations, unions, political action committees and wealthy individuals can give to the campaigns of individual candidates (so called 'hard money'), but they allow almost unlimited contributions for 'party building' on behalf of all candidates ('soft money').
Campaign finance laws enacted in the wake of the Watergate scandal of 1972 were designed to limit influence peddling by wealthy groups. Ironically, these laws have had precisely the opposite effect: they have focused large contributions through the 'soft money' loophole, thereby concentrating influence at the centre.
The problem was that the Indonesian gardener's station in life and subsequent return to Indonesia raised question at the Federal Election Commission about the true source of the contribution. Indeed, investigators quickly discovered that, as expected, the true source of the contribution was not an individual, but the Lippo Group itself, a foreign corporation and, therefore, an illegal source. The funds were returned, but not before the political damage was already done.
Innuendo
When it became apparent that one contribution was tainted, there began a cascade of innuendo forcing the Democratic Party to investigate whether there were other sources of tainted funds as well. The Democratic National Committee (DNC) and Republican National Committee (RNC) are both required by law to run background checks on all contributors. Internal audits should have caught these problems, but it became apparent immediately that controls at the DNC had broken down.
Republican Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich with typical hyperbole called the Democratic fund-raising practices 'the most systematic large-scale effort to get around the law that I think we certainly have seen since Watergate, and in its total effort it is much bigger, I think, than Watergate was.'
As the investigators began to pursue the breakdown in DNC internal controls, other problems began to emerge. The person who vetted the contribution at the DNC had been John Huang, a top fund raiser for the Democrats and employee of the Commerce Department. John Huang had been previously a high ranking employee of Lippo Securities in Los Angeles, an affiliate of the Indonesia-based Group.
Other names related to the Lippo Group were discovered close to the administration. Charles De Queljoe, a naturalised US citizen and president of Lippo Securities, had been appointed to an administration panel on trade policy. David Yeh of Lippo Realty Inc was another major DNC contributor. And there were others.
Huang
The current Senate investigations have centred on John Huang. After he left Lippo Securities, John Huang moved to the DNC and became a very effective fund raiser among Asian-Americans. Later he requested a government post and was appointed by the Clinton administration to a minor position in the Commerce Department.
When the campaign scandal broke, questions began to be whispered, asking if Huang had perhaps misused his office to obtain classified economic information which he may have passed to foreign governments or corporations. Some circumstantial evidence has emerged.
Two other key witnesses are being sought in these Senate investigations, one a Lippo Group official from Indonesia and another a diplomat from China. Both have left the US. Currently, Huang is under intense scrutiny, and he is refusing to testify unless he is given partial immunity from prosecution.
Arkansas
In the highly charged campaign atmosphere before the November 1996 elections, the question was shouted: 'Has the administration been selling influence?' In the full light of post-election hindsight, the accusation that financial controls at the DNC were defective has stuck.
But was there a sweetheart deal with Lippo Group in order to gain influence, or was it really an innocent and legal contribution from a wealthy constituent with a common agenda? On balance, the evidence suggests the latter. But that evidence has not in any way stopped the innuendo.
The relationship between the Lippo Group and the Clintons goes back much further than the 1996 campaign to the days in the late 1970s and early 1980s when Bill Clinton was governor of Arkansas.
James Riyadi, a member of the family which controls the Lippo Group, lived in Arkansas while he was president of Worthen Bank. Lippo Group bought a majority portion of Worthen Bank. Reportedly a personal friendship developed between the Clintons and James Riyadi as they worked together on various development projects. Hillary Rodham Clinton's law firm represented the Worthen Bank as well, so the working relationships had considerable depth.
Members of the Lippo Group clearly had the governor's ear long before he became president. And not necessarily because they had bought that ear, but because they had earned respect over shared investment projects in one of the poorest states in the United States. Folks close to the Lippo Group in turn contributed generously and legally to then Governor Clinton's efforts at re-election and for President Clinton's first run for national office.
While the illegal contribution accusations toward Lippo Group have been addressed and generally abandoned, the Lippo Group is under other investigations from other branches of the government stemming from unrelated problems. Lippo Group officials are being investigated for possible violations of US banking laws related to excessive lending to their own corporation. While such pyramid-like schemes are legitimate and common in Asian finance, they are illegal in the US.
China
The Senate investigations into campaign finances began with the Lippo Group, but they have moved completely into other areas of much greater sensitivity. The Lippo Group contributions have proven to be small potatoes in comparison. The vast majority of the Lippo Group contributions and those solicited by John Huang have proven to be undeniably legal.
Completely unrelated to the Lippo Group contributions, investigations have unearthed illegal contributions from foreign governments. The government of mainland China funneled contributions to both US political parties, it seems, through a network of front corporations, trade councils and quasi-academic institutes in a transparent effort to soften US policy on Chinese human rights violations and to weaken US support for Taiwan.
Even though circumstantial evidence of a connection between Lippo Group and the Chinese government has emerged (the Chinese government reportedly has a 40% equity share in the Lippo Group), after intense investigation, no evidence whatsoever has been discovered which directly links the Lippo Group with the Chinese government's illegal efforts at influence peddling.
Republican
Well after the election, the Republican Party has just recently begun to investigate its own fund raising practices. In May 1997 the RNC discovered more than US$ 120,000 in funds whose source turned out to be illegal under US law. Those funds were from a foreign source, the Hong Kong Youngblood Group. More disclosures along this line are likely to be forthcoming.
In comparison, the Democratic Party has been performing background checks on sources of funding since the scandal broke last October. The DNC by this last May has returned more than US$3.4 million in questionable funds. The contributions from the Chinese government are still under intense scrutiny.
In the heat of this hotly contested campaign, both parties have worked at the edge of legality, and sometimes crossed it. The Democrats in this last election are being painted by the Republicans as the worst offenders at this point, and that accusation has tended to stick.
However, the accusations of influence peddling have proven quite hard to substantiate, especially since all US politicians practise it in one form or another.
The finance scandals in the last weeks before the election substantially favoured the Republican accusers over the Democratic defenders. Although the innuendo hardly dented Bill Clinton's popularity, it did affect a number of closely contested Congressional campaigns and, contradicting earlier polls, produced a Republican-dominated Congress.
Remote
This election may turn out to be one of the dirtiest this century in the US. Even with all the scandals, innuendo and investigation, however, prospects for real campaign finance reform remain remote.
It is hard to believe that a single contribution by an Indonesian gardener living temporarily in the US could have caused such a national debate, and even more that it turned the tide of an election. While both the pattern of finance and the pattern of political contributions of the Lippo Group may seem to be politics as usual by Indonesian standards, they have turned out to be disastrous in the context of the United States.
Dr D Jay Losher taught at Satya Wacana Christian University in Central Java in the 1980s. He is now pastor of a Presbyterian church in Dallas, Texas.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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The romance of K'tut Tantri
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Timothy Lindsey, The Romance of K'tut Tantri and Indonesia, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1997, 362pp, Rrp AU$65.
Reviewed by RON WITTON
What a wonderful book! For many of us who began our studies of Indonesia in the early sixties, K'tut Tantri's exciting autobiographyRevolt in Paradise (London: Heinemann, 1960) was a magical door that allowed us to experience the Indonesian revolution which, a little more than a decade before, had transformed the lives of all Indonesians, and which was still a living memory for our Indonesian lecturers. The thrilling events she described so vividly in her book stood in such stark contrast to dull, suburban Australia.
Artist
The details of K'tut Tantri's life were well-known to our generation, for we all read her book. We knew she was born on the Isle of Man and that she had gone to the US West Coast in the thirties. We knew that on Hollywood Boulevard, one rainy afternoon in 1932, she had seen a film, Bali, the last paradise, which so inspired her that she immediately set sail alone for Bali with her paint brushes and easel to live the life of an artist there.
We knew that once in Bali she was adopted by a Balinese raja and his family. Soon after, she had started one of the first hotels in Bali on the then 'undiscovered' beach of Kuta. There she mixed with such famous fellow artists as Walter Spies and Adrien le Mayeur. Before long, her close relationship with the local Balinese had upset 'proper' Dutch colonial society.
Then, when the Japanese invaded, she chose not to evacuate with the Dutch and other Westerners but to stay with 'her' people. We had read in her book how she subsequently endured privation, torture and hardship during the Japanese occupation. After the Japanese surrender, she joined the Indonesian revolution to fight for independence.
Surabaya Sue
She was with Bung Tomo during the heroic resistance of the people of Surabaya against the returning Dutch colonialists and their British allies. This role gained her international notoriety as 'Surabaya Sue', who broadcast for the fledgling republic from clandestine radio stations.
She thus became a confidante of many of Indonesia's revolutionary leaders including President Sukarno. Her book described in detail how she subsequently travelled to Australia where she worked with the trade union movement and Indonesian sympathisers in Australia in order that the young republic might gain international recognition.
In 1949 she managed to slip back into Indonesia to witness the Dutch hand-over of sovereignty to her adopted country. Then, after independence, she worked for the young republic as a Department of Information civil servant. Hers was an exhilarating and inspiring story, larger than life and wonderfully told. And what a way to learn history!
But... was it history? This is the question Tim Lindsey, barrister, historian and Indonesianist, set himself to answer in this engrossing book, in essence his dissertation for a well-deserved doctorate in history.
Quagmire
In absorbing detail, Tim Lindsey tells his own story, of how he also had read and been inspired by Revolt in paradise, but that he began to notice an intriguing quagmire of inconsistencies in K'tut Tantri's story. No doubt much of the story of her life was true. After all, the splendid photos he has included in his book prove she was there and that she mixed with the historical figures about whom she wrote so intimately. But why could her story not stand up to detailed historical scrutiny?
Slowly, we are drawn into Lindsey's explanations of why there are these blurred boundaries between her autobiography and the historical events she experienced. With the meticulous tenacity of a driven detective, Lindsey chases trails of evidence all over the globe in order to make sense of the contradictions he discovers.
As an exercise in historiographic and evidential analysis, it is astounding. He examines evidence from the Isle of Man, from the US, Indonesia, Australia, and, indeed, from anywhere in the world where K'tut Tantri has travelled throughout her long and eventful life.
So many names
Thus Lindsey unravels the 'tangled web' (p134) of her life, addressing the many mysteries that surrounded it, beginning with the basic question, what was her name? She had so many: Miss Walker; Miss Tenchery; Mrs Muriel Pearson; Mrs Manx; Miss Daventry; Surabaya Sue; K'tut Tantri; Miss Oestermann; Sally van de As... (p8f; p146f; p247f; p250f; p261n).
What did she do in Bali, and did she really run a world famous hotel or was it merely a glorified bungalow? (p48f). What role did she play during the Japanese revolution? Was she a collaborator? If so, doesn't that make Sukarno and many other Indonesian leaders collaborators as well? (p134f).
And if she was a 'collaborator', what is one to make of her incarceration by the Japanese? Concrete evidence of her incarceration exists in the form of the crude playing cards she made in prison. These cards are described in great detail in her book. In the course of his research, Lindsey finally unearthed the actual cards among her possessions. They can be seen in one of the many photos in Lindsey's book.
What role did she play in the revolution, and in Australia? Was Australia's intelligence service right in their clandestine assessment of her (p201f)?
In teasing out fact from fantasy, Lindsey weaves a glorious tale in which an astounding cast of characters are involved. There are the famous Westerners who visited pre-war Bali and with whom she mixed, including Charlie Chaplin, Cole Porter, Barbara Hutton, Noel Coward, Margaret Mead and Gregory Bateson.
There are the famous Indonesians with whom she became intimate during the revolution and after, including Sukarno, Syahrir, Bung Tomo, Syarifuddin, Hatta, Ruslan Abdulgani, Ali Alatas and Sabam Siagian. There are prominent Australians such as Sister Bulwinkel of Bangka, Molly Bondan, Herb Feith and Sir Richard Kirby.
On the world scene, Lindsey, in making sense of her life, brings on such disparate figures as Matahari and King Zog. The cast goes on and on as Lindsey pursues K'tut Tantri's exciting but internally contradictory life story.
Blockbuster
K'tut Tantri's book was translated into over a dozen languages. It would have made a blockbuster movie. Indeed, the fact that Hollywood was interested is demonstrated by the photo in Lindsey's book of the Hollywood movie mogul Charles Wick visiting President Sukarno in 1963 at the Jakarta presidential palace, with K'tut Tantri in attendance.
Lindsey's analysis of why such a film was never made is particularly fascinating. One has only to read the lurid descriptions found on the covers of the paperback versions of Revolt in paradise to see why Hollywood was interested.
While I still treasure the dour hardcover 1960 first edition that so captured my undergraduate imagination, I also own a 1963 Consul paperback edition of the book. On its cover is a rather anxious but beautiful, blonde young woman fleeing a scene of guerilla warfare among burning Balinese temples, accompanied by the words:
'The story of one woman's agony as she faces the onslaught of the Japanese war machine, tearing ruthlessly through the lush paradise that had been exotic Bali. A staggering human document which is one of the greatest stories of our time.'
How the 'film of the book' was both nurtured and stymied by K'tut Tantri herself over four decades is among the most complex paradoxes that Tim Lindsey explores.
Sydney
The last part of his book takes us to the present. We finally catch up with K'tut Tantri herself, living in Sydney. The larger than life figure whom we meet through Lindsey has become a lonely but defiant character. Lindsey has the opportunity to glimpse the outrageous but charming personality he had been pursuing for so many years at second hand. She is in her late nineties, frail and 'increasingly remote and detached from events around her in a nursing home' (p317).
Lindsey tells how he became a close and loving friend, and how he then had to face the dilemma of when he might publish his study that, by its very scholarship, lays bare the secrets of this great romantic's soul. In a tender and moving conclusion to the book, Tim Lindsey discusses his 'solution to the dilemma of the biographer with a living subject'. 'After much anxious worry' , he reached his compromise, which was 'not to publish my research while I believed to do so would cause her significant harm' (p316).
Lindsey now believes the time has come for us to become privy to the secrets he discovered. The book stands as a magnificent testament to K'tut Tantri's romantic life and to Tim Lindsey's compassionate scholarship.
K'tut died in her sleep on 27 July 1997. Her coffin at the non-religious memorial service on 9 August was draped with the Indonesian flag and Balinese yellow and white cloth. The Indonesian deputy ambassador said she had been a true hero of the revolution. Among the small group attending were former Australian ambassador to Indonesia Bill Morrison and wife, film-makers, scriptwriters, a historian, and anthropologists. Tim Lindsey will take her ashes to Bali for scattering, as she requested. Her modest estate will be distributed to poor Balinese children.
Dr Ron Witton is an Indonesian interpreter and translator, and a sessional lecturer in Indonesian.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Itinerant scholars
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Hinduism and Islam were born so far away. How did Indonesians learn of them? KAREL STEENBRINK traces a long history of religious scholars travelling overseas.
Who were the first to bring Hinduism to Indonesia? For some time scholars have upheld theories about military expansion from India to Southeast Asia, resulting in 'Indian colonial states'. Thisksatria-theory had to be rejected however, because Indian annals and chronicles do not mention any large-scale military operation to this area.
Similarly, the later vaisha-theory, seeking the bearers of Hinduism in traders, is not able to explain the highly sophisticated expression of literary and religious relations between the two areas. Ordinary traders did not have access to the books, which could be used only by trained Hindu Brahmans or Buddhist monks.
Modern theories therefore consider religious specialists as the main actors in the (partial) conversion of Indonesia to Indian religious traditions.
Hindu scholars
This transmittance of knowledge came not only from religious scholars travelling from India to Indonesia. Many young Indonesians went the other way round. Nalanda, in North India, had an international 'university', where in the seventh century AD more than ten thousand students were enrolled, a good minority of them from Indonesia (see H. D. Sankalia,The University of Nalanda, Madras, 1934).
As late as the end of the fifteenth century, when Java's northern coast had already embraced Islam, an Indonesian student took a new religious book with him to Indonesia. The Siwaratrikalpa is a story of a war in Schwarzenegger style with much blood and crying, to the better glory and honour of Lord Shiwa and one of his devotees.
Islam
After major parts of Indonesia converted to Islam this Indian connection was broken. Although many coastal areas of India had large Muslim settlements and good schools, and some Indian scholars even made good careers as divines in the Islamic courts of Aceh, the Arabic holy places of Mecca and Medina now became the favourite destinations for Indonesian students. They went abroad to acquire the highest degree of knowledge in islamic studies.
From the sixteenth century onwards there are many proofs of the abilities of Indonesian students. Again and again they brought the newest developments in Islamic law, theology and mysticism to their home countries. The debates and changes in Mecca were often followed somewhat later by similar religious revolutions in the archipelago.
Many prominent families in Minangkabau, West Sumatra, have a forefather who was with the Padri in Mecca about 1800, and who learned there the radical and aggressive doctrines of the Wahhabi.
A later generation was imbued with the heterodox mysticism of the Shattari order, which was in turn denounced by the generation of about 1880, followers of the much more orthodox Naqshbandi order.
Of course, not everyone could send their boys (and indeed sometimes also girls, although mostly as wives) to the holy land. ThePadri area in Minangkabau is located at a level above 500 meters. These hills are not suited for rice cultivation, but are the proper area for cash crops such as coffee. Only farmers who received cash for their products would finally be able to send their children to Mecca. So the cash economy helped to define the boundaries of some Muslim reforms as well.
Egypt
During the rubber boom of the early twentieth century the Sumatran farmers no longer sent their children to Mecca. Mecca still remained a centre of devotion, the place of the yearly pilgrimage, the hajj, while Medina continued to attract people to the shrine of Muhammad. But one should not go to that place for learning. This was at least the warning given by the nationalist leader Haji Agus Salim, for some time secretary at the consulate of the Dutch East Indies in Jeddah, to the young Islamic poet Hamka in 1925.
In the first half of the twentieth century Cairo was the centre of Islamic learning. This was considered to be the nucleus of the renewal of Islamic education. The great Muhammad 'Abduh (died 1905), rector of Al-Azhar University, was a symbol for the return to a reformed Islam, turning back to the basic sources of Qur'an and prophetic sayings (hadith).
Mukti Ali
However, times continued to change. The young Mukti Ali, a Dutch-educated revolutionary, who was well acquainted with English, decided to study in India after World War II. He had heard of names like Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan. He finished his Islamic education in India with a doctoral degree in about 1952. But he was not satisfied, went further to the West and was accepted in Canada as an MA student at Montreal's McGill University.
In 1955 Mukti Ali met there another Indonesian: Dr Muhammad Rasjidi, who had studied in Cairo, Egypt, in the 1930s. Rasjidi had served as a young assistant to the Dutch advisor for Native (=Islamic) Affairs in 1942. He had become the Indonesian Republic's first Minister of Religious Affairs in 1946, and later Indonesian ambassador to Egypt. Rasjidi's ambassadorial work had apparently not been so busy, for he managed to submit a dissertation in 1954 to the famous Louis Massignon in Paris.
After Rasjidi received his French degree, he was invited to Canada to become a visiting professor at McGill. Here he started what two decades later became labelled as `the McGill mafia': McGill graduates who were to hold prominent positions in the teaching and administration of Islam in Indonesia.
Dr Mukti Ali was Minister of Religious Affairs between 1971 and 1978. His secretary-general was Timur Djaelani MA, also McGill. The rector of the most prestigious Islamic Academy at that time was Prof Dr Harun Nasution, who studied for his BA in Cairo, but who received both his MA and PhD degrees from Montreal.
Canada's McGill University in Montreal was the first to attract a large number of Indonesian Muslim students. The programs still continue, have indeed been expanded.
America
In the early 1970s many students from the highly esteemed Islamic boarding school (pesantren) of Gontor went first for two years to Arabia, where they easily received generous scholarships. By living parsimoniously they tried to save enough for a ticket to Canada or the USA. After studying there for some six months they hoped that good results would provide them with an additional amount of dollars in the form of a scholarship. One among them was the now very influential Nurcholish Madjid, or Cak Nur as he is commonly called, who received both his MA and PhD degrees from Chicago. This was also the route taken by many to McGill.
As Minister of Religious Affairs, Dr Mukti Ali launched various government programs. In 1978 a program started with Leiden University in the Netherlands, which is still continuing as the Netherlands-Indonesian Cooperation in Islamic Studies (INIS). Thirteen Indonesians are currently the kernel here. The majority are taking a Masters' program in Islamic Studies, originally meant for Dutch new Muslim students.
One Dutch lecturer is attached to the Jakarta State Academy of Islamic Studies (IAIN), and many visiting lecturers are welcomed yearly.
Western
In the 1980s the program at McGill was expanded, so that for a decade now some 35 Indonesians pursue a university degree at any one time among the heaps of snow in that Canadian city (it holds a record for the highest snowfall of all the great cities of the world).
Other American, besides European and Australian universities have programs for Indonesian students. During the 1980s and 1990s an average of 200 'Western graduates in Islamic Studies' are planned for each Indonesian Five Year Plan.
The reasons for such a great (and expensive) program are clear. Western textbooks, methods and standards are used, or at least pursued in all Indonesian universities. If Islamic science wants to communicate with other sectors of society and wants to keep up with other developments in academic life, it should not have a special position of orientation to the Arab countries of the Middle East only.
The government is very afraid of importing Middle Eastern frustration and fundamentalism into Indonesia. Therefore those students who go to the Middle East on private funds are closely scrutinised after their return home, where they find that a degree of Al-Azhar values now less than a degree of some non-Muslim university in a Western country.
Besides, notwithstanding the continuing and even fast expanding number of those who go on the pilgrimage to Mecca, the image of the Arab world in Indonesia is not too good. A Western scholarship provides enough to live on, but in Al-Azhar it does not cover much more than 25% of daily needs. The extensive memorisation, still in use at the highest level in this former temple of Islamic learning, is considered outdated by many modern Indonesians.
Protest
This does not mean there are no protests against this orientation to the West. The present rector of the Jakarta IAIN, Prof Dr Quraisy Syihab, an Al-Azhar graduate, is one example of a bright individual who has made a splendid career after studying in the Middle East. He has brought several others with a similar background into prominent positions as well.
However, the fact that Quraisy Syihab's younger brother, Dr Alwi Syihab , graduated at Temple University in the USA, and is now a professor of Islamic Studies at the (Protestant) Hartford Seminary in Connecticut, USA, shows that the desire to study in Western countries not only continues, but even may provide Western universities with Indonesian professors.
Dr Karel Steenbrink teaches religion at Utrecht University in the Netherlands. He has been researching Indonesian Islam for many years and wrote this in Yogyakarta.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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New book, old idea
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Norman Lewis, An Empire of the East, London: Jonathan Cape, 1993.
Reviewed by MICHAEL HERMES
Publishing houses such as the Oxford in Asia series are reprinting nineteenth century colonial texts, for example the one by Alfred Wallace. This trend brings to a new generation of readers some outdated and racist attitudes regarding the cultural forms of Indonesia. However, these negative impacts are overshadowed by the fact that many texts are beingwritten today in the same style.
The Scottish travel writer Norman Lewis is apparently read widely. He is described, albeit on the dust jacket of his own book, as a 'master' and 'doyen'. Graeme Green says he is 'one of the best writers of the century'. An Empire of the East relates his travels in Indonesia in the early 1990s. There are chapters on each of the islands he visited: Irian Jaya, Timor and Sumatra.
East Indies
Lewis suggests what tourists are looking for in this country: 'Many Western travelers will wander away from the bustling modern cities in search of the graciousness of the East Indies of Old'. Indonesia, he states elsewhere, still offers 'the greatest variety of primitive scenes and entertainments of any country on earth'. In Lewis' text, and many others, Western cultural forms are portrayed as normal and rational by both promoting them and exoticising the 'Other'. This is the clear intent of many of his anecdotes.
He asks a Dani man why his people do not wear clothes. (Where was Lewis when they were doing social studies at school?) He gave the same man a radio and ponders 'if this could be the first present he had ever received, and whether this little ceremony of giving and receiving marked yet another step in Yurigeng's transition to the new culture of possessions and the accumulation of wealth'. Yet Lewis' travelling anthropological forebears were intrigued by the intricate gift exchange systems of New Guinea. Rather than describing the Danis, his observations illustrate his own isolation from the texts of his Western forebears.
His portrayal of the Dani of Irian Jaya as a 'pristine group' is facile and stems from his inability to see the historical and cultural influences which came together to create contemporary Dani culture. Past influences are written out of his work due to this myopia. His dialogue with the Dani is brief and entirely through an Indonesian interpreter, who clearly carries the same blindness affecting Lewis.
Eugenic program
On the history of communities of mixed indigenous and colonial blood, Lewis states: 'European features proclaimed him a descendant of one of that small legion of indomitable men who conquered half a world, then uncomplainingly carried out the order to mate with any native woman they could, to produce the sons necessary to defend the new possessions'. This de-humanising description makes his subjects appear to be the result of some form of eugenic breeding program.
Elsewhere he describes a group of Chinese Indonesians singing 'Ep-pi bir-deh to you' to someone, 'in what they believed to be English'. This text ridicules the singers and puts them in an inferior position to the dominant culture of the West. No mention of the fact that these singers are probably multi-lingual, conversant with the local dialect, their Chinese dialect, as well as Indonesian, which would embarrass Lewis' monolingualism and challenge his mistaken superiority complex.
Far from being 'explorers' in any sense (as they would obviously like to be seen), writers of this style 'walk in their own landscape', oblivious to other histories or world views.
Power
But why are these texts still so stuck in this colonial style? Part of the reason lies in the power relations of publishing. As Paul Rubertone states in the context of indigenous American histories, cultures without written literacy are at a distinct disadvantage in projecting their story when competing with cultures with a written tradition.
What is perhaps most surprising about this book and others like it is that in the past century attitudes have altered so little. The Victorian bigotry and superiority seen in Darwin and Wallace's work in the 1800s flows untempered into many late twentieth century writings. If one has to bestow the title 'primitive' anywhere, it is more justly awarded to these pieces of archaic prose.
Lewis completely sidesteps questions of identity and tradition in the new global culture. He remains content with the glib 'analysis' hand-crafted in colonial times. And yet he talks of the repression the Dani suffers at the hands of the Indonesian authorities. His work, I would argue, is itself a form of repression and violence: that of talking for others.
Only recently have some guide books appeared which let go of the fantasy of unexplored back country awaiting the intrepid traveller. The truth is that since the time of Sinbad and before, the archipelago has received 'explorers': mercenaries, missionaries, and misrepresenters of innumerable ethnic origins.
Michael Hermes recently completed a Master of Letters degree in cultural studies through the University of Central Queensland. He lives in Hobart, Tasmania.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Islam in opposition?
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It's not that simple
Despite an impression that Islam has lately become a potent force of opposition, GREG BARTON thinks many Muslims have a stake in the status quo.
Eighteen months ago Megawati Sukarnoputri (daughter of Indonesia's first president) and her party PDI (Indonesian Democratic Party) seemed set to become a genuine opposition.Even after the events of July 1996, Megawati, no longer the official leader of PDI, continues to be in the eyes of many, not least the foreign media, the voice of opposition in Indonesia. Before the rise of Megawati neither PDI nor PPP were able to become more than token oppositions.
To find mass-based organisations with the extensive networks and the ability to capture the hearts of millions that are necessary for serious opposition it was necessary to look not to the political parties but to Islam.
Islamic masses
Nahdatul Ulama (NU), with a claimed membership in excess of thirty million and an unparalleled, grass-roots, village-based system of traditional religious schools or pesantren, is the most significant mass-based organisation outside of the ruling military regime.
Modernist Muhammadiyah, being largely urban and middle class, can not hope to match NU's pesantren network. Nevertheless, its own system of schools, along with its universities and its hospitals, orphanages and other charitable institutions, spans the nation and inspires the loyalty of a significant sector of modern Indonesian society. Moreover, Muhammadiyah also claims a membership base in the tens of millions.
Together, the two organisations rule the hearts of most of the nation's committed, santri Muslims. And in an era when more and more allegedly nominal abangan Muslims, the rest of Indonesia's 180 million Muslims, are discovering a new sense of purpose in religion, it is reasonable to assume that their influence is not limited just to those from santri families.
Not a threat
Nevertheless, it has been many years since Islam was regarded as a real threat to the ruling regime. Indeed, from its beginning, this decade has been marked by a very different relationship between Suharto's regime and Islam. In the 1990s, unlike in the 1970s and 1980s, Suharto has nurtured a relationship between urban, modernist santri and the regime.
In the 1980s, particularly after the rise of Abdurrahman Wahid, or Gus Dur as he is known to millions, to the position of executive chairman, the government enjoyed a good working relationship with NU. The urban modernists, however, remained on the outer, especially those with any political aspirations. And so-called Islamic extremists, such as those held to be behind the Tanjung Priok incident of September 1984, continued to top the public enemy list (communists being in short supply).
Underscoring its attitude to 'political Islam', in the early 1980s the government moved to force all organisations to acknowledge Pancasila as their 'sole foundation' (asas tunggal) or else face dissolution. A symbolic move particularly unpalatable to those who were committed to campaigning politically for a greater role for Islam in public life. Most of whom were modernists with roots in Masyumi, the banned modernist political party of the 1950s.
Appease
It was somewhat surprising then, that in late 1990 the president moved decisively to promote a new national association for Muslim intellectuals, ICMI. Significantly, the initial impetus to set up ICMI did not come from Suharto. Rather, it was the brainchild of certain Muslim activists who had long been critical of the government. Including some outspoken critics such as Imaduddin Abdulrahim who had earlier been imprisoned because of his activism.
In retrospect the president's move was not so surprising. Some months earlier he had moved to appease conservative Muslim interests by allowing passage of a law elevating the status of Islamic courts (dealing mainly with matters of family law and inheritance) to match those of civil and military courts. Moreover, the president seemed to indicate a personal change of heart at this point by making his first hajj pilgrimage after which he symbolically added Muhammad to his name.
From the outset, there was considerable ambivalence regarding the government's support of ICMI and its general rapprochement with conservative Islam. Nevertheless, the great majority of Islamic intellectuals joined ICMI, or at least allowed their names to be added to its membership list. They were cautiously hopeful that the organisation might serve to leverage concessions out of the government.
Even those in the organisation who were most cynical about the motivations of Suharto and Habibie spoke optimistically about a growing wave of santrification in urban middle class society, and of the realpolitik potential of ICMI to 'shift the centre of gravity' through a ratchet effect.
From the government's, or at least the president's, point of view, the support of ICMI and related policy initiatives were a great success. Many of the government's most ardent critics were now lecturing on the virtues of Pancasila democracy and generally becoming 'good citizens'. At least until recently.
Anger
The government's actions in ousting Sukarnoputri Megawati from PDI through a heavily contrived 'internal coup' met with widespread anger. In late July 1996 this anger spilled over into the worst demonstrations seen in Indonesia in two decades. This ill feeling was further fuelled by the government crackdown on press freedom that began with the closure of the leading news magazines Tempo, Editor andDeTik two years earlier.
So, when earlier this year, Amien Rais, chairman of ICMI's board of experts, and also chairman of Muhammadiyah, spoke out candidly about his concerns about the Freeport mine operation in Irian Jaya, many applauded his bold stand.
Amien was concerned about the high level of foreign profit taking, and the involvement of 'certain business interests'. Just as the ousting of Megawati from PDI had transformed her into a popular 'martyr', so too the inevitable sacking of the recalcitrant Amien galvanised public opinion, particularly within the ranks of ICMI and Muhammadiyah. The reluctant support for the government, or at least the silencing of criticism, that had been achieved through ICMI was washed away in a landslide of r esentment. It was hardly surprising that the May election campaign was marked by widespread unrest and the phenomena of 'Mega-Bintang', the symbolic and spontaneous linking of Megawati, as an iconic opposition figure, with the PPP campaign.
Gus Dur's peace move
Whilst, for a host of reasons, PPP failed to significantly increase its share of the vote, the scale and intensity of expressions of support for PPP during the campaign suggested that Islam was once again becoming the locus of political opposition.
Complicating the picture were two other factors, namely the many 'spontaneous' eruptions of 'ethnic' and 'religious' unrest throughout the country, and the complicated rapprochement earlier in the year between Gus Dur, NU and the regime.
Abdurrahman had been a consistent and bold critic of the Suharto regime, particularly since 1993 when his personal relationship with the president soured, in part because of his outspoken comments about ICMI and the dangers of sectarianism.
Unexpected strategic manoeuvring has for decades been a standard NU ploy in negotiating the often tricky terrain of realpolitik in modern Indonesia. So it is not entirely surprising that such a maverick figure as Gus Dur should occasionally surprise even his friends as he negotiates space and leverage for himself and NU in extremely difficult circumstances.
Nevertheless, many observers fear that Gus Dur's attempts to buy a (temporary) peace with the regime will mean that it is even more likely that Indonesian society, already tense and resentful, will witness political anger being channeled along sectarian lines.
Genie out?
With the genie of 'political Islam' out of the bottle, some would argue, Indonesian society is in danger of becoming increasingly polarised, with neither the government, through ICMI, nor NU being able to check the dangerous slide.
But is the genie out of the bottle? The situation is complex. We should be wary of simplistic assessments. I would like to draw attention to four factors that I believe mitigate the gravity of the situation.
First, the tenor of santri Muslim society in Indonesia is influenced by a widespread liberalism. This liberalism is, in part, the product of an enduring cultural orientation, but it has also been reinforced by modern education and dissemination of liberal ideas over the past two decades. This is particularly true of the traditionalists in NU, but also broadly true of the modernists, including most of those within ICMI.
Second, Indonesia faces a relative scarcity of true fundamentalism. This was true even in 1984, when in the face of significant resentment towards its drive to make Pancasila the dominant paradigm, government forces alleged that Islamic extremists were behind major riots in the Tanjung Priok port district of Jakarta. Evidence for large-scale agitation by Islamic extremists is just as difficult to find in relation to outbreaks of unrest earlier this year.
Third, whatever the success of Gus Dur's gamesmanship in, as it were, 'calling off the hounds', it is inconceivable that NU will not continue to be a moderating force in Muslim society. Indeed, it is possibly now going to be more, rather than less, effective in this role.
Finally, it is important not to overlook the inherent conservatism of the armed forces Abri in these matters. Abri remains the most powerful institution in Indonesian society, one which will undoubtedly exercise a key role in directing the transition to the post-Suharto era. And despite having experienced a significant santrification within its ranks it is not about to begin now experimenting with giving ground to militant political Islam.
Does this mean that we should discount the threat posed by sectarianism? Not at all, it is just that it is not that simple.
Greg Barton teaches studies in religion at Deakin University, Geelong, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Writing on the wall
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Remember the election last May? MAS SUJOKO was there and listened in to the people's vote, recorded on walls all over Yogyakarta.
In the Rubikayat of Omar Kayam the poet notes: 'the moving finger writes and having writ moves on...', which is definitely the case in Yogyakarta. Street graffiti has always assumed a prominent role in the subterranean counter-culture of this Indonesia's cultural capital.
In the weeks leading up to the general election, it appeared everywhere - 'like mushrooms in the wet season', as Indonesians say. From the moulding white -washed walls of the royal palace of Yogyakarta, to the chaotic entrance to the Gadjah Mada University, everything has been gloriously defaced. Everyone with a cause seems to have a paint brush or spray can in their hand.
Naturally political graffiti dominates the public canvas, but there is also a great deal of competition from street gangs eager to immortalise their exploits. For both, the preferred language of prophetic instruction is English. There is the odd exception, such as the rather personalBambang Gendel mumet sumat: Bambang Gendel (an alias) has a headache because his circumcision didn't work out.
Megawati
Megawati, the ex-leader of the Partai Demokrasi Indonesia (PDI), assumes a prominent profile. Expressions such as: 'Megawati forever' (Pro-Mega, Hidup Mega), or 'Megawati or nothing at all'(Megawati atau tidak sama sekali'), and Mega never die make unambiguous statements about contemporary politics. So does the rather strong 'Golkar are idiots' (Golkar goblok).
One creative graffiti is Single minority: Banteng kasaput Mega (see photo). The 'minority' alludes to Golkar chairman Harmoko's comments about the ruling party achieving 'a single majority'. The buffalo (banteng), symbol of the PDI and its current leader Soerjadi, has been 'eclipsed' (kasaput) by Megawati's higher standing with the electorate. The empty chair represents both the disastrous showing of the PDI in the polls and the symbol of victory for Megawati and her supporters.
Another pro-Megawati group, Psim, have been busy as well. Their name is everywhere. It is an adaptation from Persatuan Sepak Bola Indonesia Mataram, a foot ball supporters' club, to mean Pendukung Setia Ibu Megawati: Faithful Supporters of Mrs Megawati. Thousands of members apparently blazed a trail of red paint from Yogyakarta to the beaches of Parangtritis, where over 10,000 young people wore Megawati T-shirts and held an illegal all-night 'rave' party.
Islam my religion
The other political party which enjoys a high profile on Yogyakarta's streets is the PPP (Partai Persatuan Pembangunan, United Development Party), ostensibly representing many of Indonesia's Muslims. Everywhere the letters PPP are blazed with a single star, often in green paint.
In the kauman Islamic village near the palace, the graffiti 'Islam is my religion and PPP is my choice' (Islam agamaku, PPP pilihanku) are overwritten with the words 'Not my religion' (Tak agamaku)! Welcome to PPP village is embellished, in different paint, with 'horrifying' (miris). Golput or 'White group', urging an informal vote, is written everywhere.
Joxzyn, Joxcin or Jxz is a very active graffiti gang mostly comprising Muhammadiyah high school students. Their name combines the boy's name Joko with the Javanese for crazy (sinting). Members ride around on motorcycles sans mufflers at election time and terrorise other gangs, such as their sworn enemies QZR, which stands forkisruh, meaning confused, crazy or spaced out. The QZR gang are believed to originate in the married quarters of the military barracks in Jalan Kaliurang, north Yogyakarta.
There is also the PPP Darwis graffiti group. Their name stands for Modar ya wis, meaning the 'I don't care if I'm killed' group, presumably now low in numbers.
Gangs
Other gangs who splash a bit of paint around are The Boys, often spelt Boyz. This seems to be a broad grouping of disaffected youth comprising Gay boys, Stinky boys, Bad boys, Lazy boys, Reflex boys and Nasty boys. Not to forget the Hebat boys ('Terrific boys'), obviously with a high regard for themselves.
Black Ninja are a martial arts gang. Lapendoz are pill-addicted young people who also like to fight. Migraine boys are hooked on the pain killing drug ponstan. According to one source these Boyz are 'a real pain'.
The words Death and Kill are prominent in the Gamping area, as are F... this village, F... 'in ibu, and the rather hopeful F... me. Near the Mount Merapi National Park gates there is the ominous 'Ready for revolution' (Siap revolusi). On the wall of a city graveyard, in beautifully scripted calligraphy, is the ironic incantation: Welcome to Hollywood. The rather depressing scrawl on the wall of the Gampingan campus of the Indonesian School of Fine Arts reads: The future is bullshit for me, probably a general comment on life, rather than on the future of Indonesian democracy.
Democrazy
Some years ago local authorities spent much time and money developing the civic slogan Yogyakarta berhati nyaman, a made-up word derived from 'clean, healthy and nice' (bersih, sehat, nyaman). In defiance, someone over-painted this slogan with large, bright red words:Indonesia democrazy. According to Yogyakarta's street philosophers, this is an appropriate description of the Indonesian political process.
Mas Sujoko is a pseudonym for a student in Yogyakarta.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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How Muslims will say 'No'
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What are the prospects of Islamic opposition? How democratic will it be? GEORGE ADITJONDRO finds much to be hopeful about.
The Muslim-led United Development Party (PPP) won 23 percent of the vote in the recent parliamentary elections, a significant increase over the past. However, party activists recorded widespread electoral fraud by government officials that they believe robbed them of a much higher share. They demanded the PPP leadership refuse to sign the result.
Under pressure from the authorities, the leaders signed anyway. This frustrated many party supporters, who had hoped that a refusal might lead to a nation-wide rejection of the election result. This, in turn, might have invalidated the entire exercise and thereby constitutionally delegitimised the Suharto government.
But the battle is not over yet. There is still a prospect for Islamic opposition in Indonesia, evolving in conjunction with parliamentary opposition from the PPP.
Strictly religious
In Indonesia, there are at least three types of Islamic opposition which could influence oppositional politics. These are the strictly religious opposition, more economically-oriented opposition, and a broader opposition motivated by human rights.
Strictly religious opposition means opposing gambling, alcohol, prostitution, sexual promiscuity, abuse of the Prophet Muhammad's name or of words from the Holy Qur'an. It also includes opposing the prohibition on the Islamic women's head dress (jilbab) in public schools, as well as opposing the freedom of other religions to practice.
The mass protest against Indonesia's state-controlled national lottery SDSB a few years ago fell within this type of Islamic opposition. So did the mass rallies in support of the Bosnian and Palestinian peoples, which were driven more by solidarity for fellow Muslims than for upholding the right of self-determination.
Another example was the protest against former Information Minister Harmoko, who (it was said) intentionally made a slip of the tongue while reciting verses from the Holy Qur'an a couple of years ago.
Economics
Economically-oriented opposition generally objects to the unaccountable way the government uses taxpayers' money. This has been carried out by PPP politicians such as Hamzah Haz. He has called for the implementation of the parliament's budgetary rights, which are stipulated in the 1945 Constitution but have been ignored by the Suharto government for the last thirty years.
PPP politicians have also repeatedly campaigned against corruption. For example Sri Bintang Pamungkas, then still a PPP parliamentarian, called for an investigation into credit scandals involving the textile factory PT Sritex, and into its partnership with a brother of then-Information Minister Harmoko.
Also included in this category could be mass protests against the escape of an imprisoned Chinese businessman, Eddy Tanzil, who had been sentenced for embezzling large amounts of state bank credits.
This second type of Islamic opposition is grounded in many PPP politicians from the modernist Islamic organisation Muhammadiyah. They come from the urban small business class, which has been systematically marginalised by Suharto's big business tendency. Suharto has shown disproportionate favouritism towards a handful of Chinese business families and families of the ruling elite.
Village level
However, after more and more intellectuals from Muhammadiyah obtained tertiary education degrees and joined the bureaucracy, their role as social critics was somewhat taken over by leaders of the other main Islamic organisation, the more traditional Nahdatul Ulama (NU). From village level NU branch leaders right up to the current NU national leader Kiai Haji Abdurrachman Wahid, they have become spokespersons for marginalised villagers.
The problems villagers face include industrial pollution into the brackish fish ponds near Gresik in East Java, the planned relocation of large-scale Japanese industries to Madura which may marginalise villagers, as well as the social and environmental impact of nuclear power plants which the Suharto regime plans to build in Central Java.
NU kiai have on various occasions defended the rights of farmers vis-a-vis repressive agricultural policies of the New Order state, such as the compulsory sugarcane planting scheme and mismanagement of rural credits.
After the formation of the Suharto-backed Muslim scholars association ICMI, many Muhammadiyah-educated intellectuals joined up and thus become less and less vocal. In fact, they became strong supporters of the technological 'white elephants' of Research and Technology Minister, Dr Baharuddin Jusuf Habibie, who chairs ICMI. In the case of the Madura Island development project, ICMI intellectuals tried to persuade the kiai of Madura to accept that plan.
This situation may not last long, however. Earlier this year Muhammadiyah's chairperson, Dr Amien Rais, was sacked by Habibie as the chairperson of ICMI's Expert Council. Amien Rais had criticised Suharto for allowing large foreign business interests to control the Freeport copper mine in West Papua and the supposedly lucrative Busang gold mine in East Kalimantan.
Economic Islamic opposition goes back to the independence struggle before World War II, when Islamic organisations opposed the Dutch colonial regime's policy of favouring the Eurasian upper class and the 'Foreign Oriental' (Chinese, Arab and Indian) middle class. Muhammadiyah, established in 1912, fought the Dutch policy by creating their own schools, hospitals, and businesses in the cities. Many rural kiais, meanwhile, were involved in peasant rebellions against Dutch-controlled sugarcane plantations and sugar mills.
Human rights
Finally, the third type of Islamic opposition is where Indonesian Muslims have joined hands with non-Muslims, including the children of members of the banned Indonesian Communist Party PKI and its affiliate organisations, to fight for broader human rights concerns which do not exclusively cover Muslim interests.
Contrary to the mainstream view, which does not regard this type of opposition as 'Islamic', anybody who reads the literature published by Islamic non-government organisations in Indonesia will have to agree that there is nothing 'un-Islamic' about all these human rights campaigns. They are promoted both by the more 'conventional' literature from older mass organisations and the more 'radical' publishers such as Mizan in Bandung and LKIS in Yogyakarta.
Many activists with explicit Islamic backgrounds, members of Islamic organisations in their student years, have been involved in a variety of pro-democracy campaigns. They take up issues ranging from free speech to more sensitive ones such as the right to self-determination for the people of East Timor, West Papua and Aceh.
The list of Muslim opposition figures also includes some figures from the ICMI camp. Dr Amien Rais, for instance, has criticised the nepotism of the ruling Golkar party in appointing its candidates for the 1997 elections. He also suggested that the political parties should determine the criteria for the next presidential candidate.
Dr Nurcholish Madjid, or Cak Nur, former leader of the Islamic students association HMI, who still sits on the ICMI Expert Council, has called for the two non-ruling parties, PDI and PPP, to become explicit opposition parties. He himself has joined the election watchdog KIPP. Cak Nur is also a member of the National Human Rights Commission. Dr Sri Bintang Pamungkas, the leader of an illegal political party, PUDI, who was expelled from PPP after his involvement in anti-Suharto rallies in Germany, has never been expelled from ICMI.
HMI members in East Java helped defend imprisoned East Timor activist Jose Antonio Neves in 1994. In Central Java they joined protests against pollution at Tapak and against a nuclear plant. In Riau they joined anti-logging protests, and in North Sumatra they worked to oppose child labour abuse.
In most social justice and environmental campaigns in which I have been involved, I have worked closely with Indonesian Muslim activists working in secular, Islamic, and inter-religious organisations.
Constraints
Having broadened the perspective, we now need to examine several inner constraints on the effectiveness of an Islamic opposition in Indonesia.
By focusing mainly on specific religious needs, the Islamic opposition, especially its first type, has created insecurity among non-Muslim minorities. The more so since non-Muslim places of worship such as Christian churches and Buddhist/ Taoist temples have been attacked during anti-government protests. This insecurity has caused many voters from non-Muslim backgrounds to flock into the Golkar camp or to boycott the elections.
It would be impossible to return to a civilian-dominated political system if non-Muslim minorities still feel the need for military protection. By attacking non-Muslim places of worship, residences and work places, groups involved in the first type of Islamic opposition have undermined their claims that Muslims can live peacefully with non-Muslims.
On the international level, Islamic opposition has mainly focused on supporting Muslim minorities vis-a-vis non-Muslim majorities, such as the Palestinians, the Bosnians, the Moros and the Patanis. Meanwhile, they have rarely defended the right of Muslim minorities fighting for independence from Muslim majorities, such as the Sahrawi in West Sahara, whose country was annexed by the Kingdom of Morocco in 1975, or the Acehnese, who are still struggling for independence from Indonesia.
The first type of opposition activists have blindly upheld the image of the Suharto regime as the global defender of oppressed Muslims, while being unaware of the regime's contradictory international policy towards those fellow Muslims. For instance, many of these activists have been totally unaware of the Suharto regime's clandestine dealings with Israel's government by buying Israeli Uzi guns and other weapons through the Mossad-linked arms trader, Shaul Eisenberg.
Many Indonesian international Islamic solidarity activists also seem to be unaware of the role Habibie-led aircraft manufacturer IPTN has played in channeling German BO-105 helicopters to Saddam Hussein to kill fellow Muslims in Kurdistan, Iran, and Kuwait. Nor of IPTN's current support for the Burmese military junta, which has oppressed Burma's Arakan Muslim minority.
Unreflective
The first type of Islamic opposition, which is carried out through ad hoc extra-parliamentary coalitions using mass action tactics, has rarely been followed up with critical reflection about the results of their campaigns. This ad hoc process has made it easy for the Suharto regime to ride the Islamic bandwagon while carrying out un-Islamic practices.
Two glaring examples of this unreflective process are the anti-Monitor and anti-SDSB campaigns, both in the early '90s. They attacked the Catholic publisher of the Jakarta tabloid Monitor, Jakob Oetama, and its Catholic editor, Arswendo Atmowiloto, because it had in their eyes insulted the Prophet Muhammad. Yet no Islamic organisation investigated the role of then-Information Minister Harmoko, who was a co-shareholder in the same tabloid.
Until his departure from his powerful Information Minister position, no Islamic organisation ever questioned Harmoko's conflict of interest in owning shares in media enterprises under his jurisdiction. Nor did they question the ethics of earning dividends from a tabloid which had not only insulted the Prophet Muhammad but also insulted all Indonesian women with its lucrative, near-pornographic cover photos.
As far as the anti-SDSB campaign was concerned, no Islamic organisation has ever demanded an independent investigation into the actual amount and use of the funds generated by this national lottery. Foreign press reports as well as my own sources have stated that two sons of Suharto, Sigit Harjojudanto and Hutomo Mandalaputra Suharto, were beneficiaries of the SDSB funds, together with Henry Pribadi, a wealthy Sino-Indonesian businessman. Sigit later used his SDSB fortune to build his five-star Bali Cliff Resort hotel in Uluwatu, southern Bali.
This comes to another major limitation of Islamic opposition in Indonesia. The movements outside parliament to defend the honour of Islam in Indonesia, as well as in the world, were rarely linked with the economic opposition within it by Islamic parliamentarians. Sri Bintang Pamungkas was probably the only PPP parliamentarian to take the pains of building links with opposition movements outside parliament, Islamic as well as non-Islamic.
Branding
The next limitation is one experienced by the third type of Islamic opposition. Due to the fear of being branded as 'sectarian' or 'primordial' by fellow activists, these Islamic human rights activists have rarely raised public concerns about Islamic human rights violations in Indonesia.
I have rarely heard, for instance, Muslim human rights activists in the Indonesian Legal Aid Foundation, YLBHI, who shared with me a strong concern for the violation of West Papuan cultural rights, express a similar concern about the prohibition against the wearing of the Muslim head dress jilbab in public schools.
I have also rarely heard Muslim human rights activists leading YLBHI, which espouses liberal democratic ideas, to call for the rehabilitation of all banned Muslim political parties and mass organisations. These include Masyumi, Parmusi, the Islamic Youth Organisation (Pelajar Islam Indonesia, PII) and the Islamic Farmers Organisation (Serikat Tani Islam Indonesia, STII).
All these political organisations were banned by Jakarta governments for different reasons. Masyumi was banned by Sukarno, together with the Indonesian Socialist Party PSI, for allegedly being involved in the regionalist PRRI rebellion of 1957. Parmusi was banned by Suharto for fear it was a reincarnation of Masyumi. STII was banned for refusing to merge into the government's farmers organisation, HKTI, while PII was banned for refusing to adopt Pancasila as its organisational philosophy, which was part of the 1985 package of five repressive political acts.
Prospects
I believe there is a great prospect of Islamic opposition in Indonesia, provided all three types of opposition are embraced and developed in a balanced way. This in turn depends not only on how each type will develop, but also on the close interaction between the three streams of Islamic opposition, as well as between oppositions outside parliament and those within it belonging to different ideological and religious persuasions.
As an Indonesian pro-democracy activist in self-imposed exile, who has worked closely with several strands of Islamic opposition, I strongly believe in this cooperation as a condition sine qua non, for long term and short term reasons. The long term reason is to increase the quality of Islamic opposition in Indonesia, the largest Muslim country in the world.
The short term reason is to end the Suharto dictatorship and to transform the Indonesian political system towards a more democratic, open, and tolerant system. This will be one where religion is not imposed by the state on its subjects, where all banned political parties - whether the Indonesian Communist Party, the Indonesian Socialist Party, the Islamic party Masyumi, the People's Democratic Party PRD, the United Democratic Party PUDI or the two Christian political parties Partai Katolik and Parkindo - have the right to exist, side by side with any other political party that people want to establish, under a multiparty system.
Newcastle, June 16, 1997
In respectful memory of Ali Shari'ati, Iranian pro-democracy martyr and Islamic liberation theologian, martyred in London on June 19, twenty years ago.
Dr George Aditjondro teaches sociology at the University of Newcastle, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Breaking out!
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DJOHAN EFFENDI explores the paradox of young progressives in Indonesia's most traditional Islamic organisation.
Traditionalist Islam in Indonesia is producing an interesting phenomenon. Young Nahdatul Ulama cadres emerging now are far more responsive towards new ideas and the challenges of modernity, including democratic reform, than their seniors.
Contrary to conventional expectations, when kiai orulama combine a mastery of the classical religious sciences with a certain level of 'modern' education they obtain considerable social insight and develop a positive attitude towards social change.
Making this all the more interesting is an opposite phenomenon now occurring among modernist Muslim organisations, where there is a tendency towards a more closed minded, frequently even reactionary attitude particularly towards 'Western' ideas.
Transformation
A great influence on the younger generation within NU is the emergence of various non-government organisations (NGOs) with either direct or indirect religious affiliations. Since the 1970s NGO activists concerned with social transformation have realised that the religious schools (thepesantren) represent the most strategic institutions in Indonesia to promote community development in rural areas. Pesantren teachers are known as kiai.
The most important institute to facilitate the intellectual development, through discourse, of young kiai is the Centre for the Development of Pesantren and Society, P3M. This centre engages in cooperative ventures with pesantren, intending to make them centres for community development.
P3M's activities have been important in redressing misgivings in the minds of young NU cadres about NU's social worth after the disillusioning years in the political arena between 1952 and 1984.
Engaged
A desire among NU students (santri), kiai, and the faithful generally to return the movement to its original socially engaged and reformist character gave birth in 1984 to a move abandoning NU's role as political party and re-embracing NU's original 1926 charter (khittah).
The return opened the way for pesantren to cooperate with different organisations without having to constantly consider the party-political implications.
NU's decision to return to the khittah encouraged youngkiai to concentrate their activities around their pesantren, not just in teaching and preaching but also in community development. They joined a broad social network, at a regional and even a national level.
P3M was established in 1983 by several kiai and NGO leaders, including Abdurrahman Wahid, now chairman of NU. It has played an important role in facilitating a national network of young kiai.
A central activity has been a series of regular seminars and workshops, called halaqah, focusing on pressing social issues. The halaqah continue an earlier series of religious discussions known as bahth al kitab, literally 'the discussion of books'. They were organised by a young NU intellectual, Masdar Farid Mas'udi, now the chairman of P3M, and were fully supported by Abdurrahman Wahid.
Critical
In these discussions religious texts which had been sacralised in pesantren usage were discussed critically. This had never been done before, at least not by older kiai and never openly. Not surprisingly they resulted in critical reactions from some older kiai, who considered them a serious deviation from NU's tradition and absolutely against the ethics of thesantri. For this reason the organisers decided to stop them.
Nevertheless many younger kiai felt there was a need for a forum to discuss social issues from a religious perspective. That is how P3M came to organise the halaqah discussions.
The range of topics discussed in these halaqah demonstrated that they were not just religious forums but also socio-political ones. And they were not a purely academic exercise but an effort to understand the real problems of society, with a view to sharing what they were able to do from their perspective as religious leaders.
Quite fundamental, if highly specialised, discussions have been held on the degree of independence a student has in following the teaching of their elders. The way these discussions are eventually resolved will have a significant bearing on the future development of NU.
Theology
On a more practical level, the halaqah have discussed thefiqh of various socio-political matters. The term fiqh literally means jurisprudence, but here it is roughly equivalent to the Christian term theology. So they talked about the fiqh of land, the fiqh of tax, the fiqh of people's representative institutions, and the fiqh of just leadership. The halaqah of 14 and 15 August 1997 took up the very latest and most important socio-political issue in Indonesia: Islam and political violence.
Among the most recent activities initiated by P3M, which is supported by the Ford Foundation, is a forum for woman kiai to discuss feminist issues from a scholarly Islamic perspective. This activity is still in its initial stages and has been organised in only four pesantren so far, but will be followed by others.
All these discussions at P3M will certainly play a significant role in future progressive developments within the Indonesian Muslim community.
Djohan Effendi is completing a PhD in religious studies at Deakin University in Geelong, Victoria, Australia. P3M can be contacted at PO Box 12 JATCL, Jakarta 13000, Indonesia, tel/fax +62-21-809 1617.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Rationality and the clitorectomy
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A Spanish enquirer gets the catechism in an exclusive Jakarta suburb. MARGARET COFFEY was there too.
Paramadina is a thriving Islamic educational organisation which aims to influence Jakarta's middle classes. It was set up in the mid eighties by modern scholars associated with Nurcholish Madjid. The main question for discussion, says its current director Dr Komaruddin Hidayat, is 'how to bring Islam within the context of modern Indonesia'.
Getting to Paramadina took me to Pondok Indah, Jakarta's showcase suburb. Elsewhere in the city things accrue fungal-like on the pavements: food vendors, street stalls, bajaj drivers and car minders. But in Pondok Indah the pavements were uncluttered and the shopping centre still glittering. In a courtyard behind a McDonald's outlet I found Paramadina.
McKinsey
It was Saturday, lunchtime, and most of the staff were taking a break before the afternoon lecture series began. In a back room a conversion discussion was underway and I was welcome to listen in.
Four people sat around a board room table. The catechumen was a young Spaniard, Angel. In Madrid he worked as a consultant with McKinsey and Company. Across the table sat his fiancee, a Sundanese he had met in Spain. They had known each other for eight months. Her hair was uncovered, she wore makeup and jewellery. Next to her was a veiled companion. Neither woman spoke during the conversation.
At the head of the table sat Dr 'A', large, convivial and certain. He did this work voluntarily, he said. In daily life he was involved in multi-level selling. What was that, I asked? Like Amway, he explained. Many very good multi-level selling textbooks are Australian. His role was to answer Angel's questions. This was their second encounter and there would be more.
Women
Why did Muslim women wear veils? asked Angel. Islam wants women to emphasise their humanity, replied Dr A. Mostly we see women as objects: in advertising they expose their bodies and this degrades them to non-humans. Islam says please clothe yourself and be a human being.
Then the same principle should apply to men, said Angel. No, men are not like that. There is certainly a rule about men's clothing but there is still a difference in the way women see men and men see women.
But there are other things I still don't understand, said Angel. We started this session with the idea that Islam is a religion that makes you understand everything you are being told. I want to know, why are you able to marry more than one woman?
Polygamy! exclaimed Dr A. I think in Islam it is not incumbent but it is possible according to individual circumstances and capacity.
But, asked Angel, in the Koran it is said that you can marry more than one woman? Yes, but not if you cannot do justice. If you can do justice, marry two, marry three ....! Maybe in another culture you don't allow it but you have a mistress outside whose position is worse than the position of a woman who becomes a second wife. She has no rights in inheritance, in social position.
In principle we believe the best is monogamy. Polygamy is, you can say, for emergency - there is always an emergency door.
Angel moved on: Now I am going to ask you a very tricky question. There are things done to women that make them suffer when they grow up.
Dr A understood. Circumcision. Oh it is just the same for what men have to undertake! In the rules not all agree on this - it is not a matter of wajib, obligatory things. There are different views among scholars about its status and if you have children you can abandon it.
I am sure I will not do it, replied Angel, even if I really convert. It is something I really cannot understand. I have of course many questions but that is enough for today.
Rational
The director's office was upstairs, a long way from the conversion discussion. Through the glass doors of the bookshelves I could make out words like 'deconstruction' and 'Hans Kung'. Dr Komaruddin Hidayat explained that Paramadina students are often Western educated. 'They are settled economically but they feel they need intellectual justification for being Muslim.'
In the foyer people were gathering. Books on Islamic themes were displayed on a table inside the door, a book on Islam and bioethics for example. A youngish woman of Chinese background said this was her seventh year of Paramadina courses. Her knowledge of Islam was not enough: 'This is the place I can get more and learn that we are moderate, tolerant.'
A doctor was interested in mystical Islam. A retired gynaecologist sought 'rational Islam' after a lifetime of 'traditional Islam'. They moved into the commodious lecture room. This course was on 'The Tao of Islam'. Maybe, said the first doctor, in Western countries there are wrong ideas about Islam.
Margaret Coffey recently visited Indonesia to make two radio programs on religion for Radio National. She lives in Melbourne.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Bank Pacific and the fall of Endang
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Endang Utari, daughter of Ibnu Sutowo, has cost the country billions of rupiah.
The success story of Endang Utari Mokodompit, managing director of Bank Pacific, reads like the plot of a TV soapie. Endang is the daughter of Ibnu Sutowo, former managing director of state oil company Pertamina.
First Endang turned Bank Pacific around. From a bank worth Rp 128 billion in assets and losing Rp 2 billion in 1989, she created such miraculous growth that by the end of 1994 assets were Rp 2.3 trillion (AU$ 1.3 billion) and profit Rp 24 billion (AU$ 13 million).
Then her interests broadened to include mining, construction, tourism and real estate. Later, she invested heavily in shares in Singapore.
Suddenly in 1995 news broke that Bank Pacific was unable to redeem bills it had underwritten to the value of hundreds of millions of rupiah. Its outstanding debt amounted to Rp 2.1 trillion (AU$ 1.2 billion) no less.
As a consequence, Endang was ejected from the board and replaced as managing director by Sanusi Lubis who, with a team from Bank BNI, had been assigned by Bank Indonesia the task of 'rescuing' Bank Pacific.
Complaint
Endang's problems only surfaced when PT Wicaksana Overseas International (WOI) lodged a complaint against Bank Pacific and PT Pacific International Finance (PIF) - also owned by Endang -because commercial paper (CP) issued by them was not able to be cashed.
The biggest loan default occurred following the take-over by Endang from PT Gelora Binamaju of the development company PT Pengembangan Agrowisata Prima (PAP) and its Resor Lido tourism, housing, hotel and golf course project in Sukabumi, West Java. This huge project had been expected to yield big returns for PAP, but was abandoned before completion.
From 1990 onwards, Endang had also expanded her business interests in Singapore. She was involved in the development of the major Bugis Junction office and trade complex there through her Virgin Islands company Montien International.
Endang through Nine Heritage Pty Ltd also purchased a 28.52% holding in a Singapore subsidiary of Goodman Fielder, Australia, later known as the Auric Pacific Group, for a price said to have reached S$ 138 million (AU$ 128 million).
So where did Endang get all the money to finance this expansion of her empire? Evidently between 1992 and the middle of 1995 she issued promissory notes (CP) through her company PIF which was under the control of Adrian Waworuntu. They were underwritten by Bank Pacific. The notes, mostly issued for terms of six months, were used to pay off earlier debts as they fell due.
Breach
Bank Pacific could have redeemed the notes at maturity. However the repayments would have gone through Bank Pacific's books and so would have come to the notice of Bank Indonesia and been observed to be in breach of regulations limiting the maximum volume of loans.
Thus, failing connivance with someone in Bank Indonesia, the alternative was to pay off maturing CP notes with the proceeds of new CP notes. And CP notes carry a very high rate of interest. For a six month term, PIF would have to pay 11.5%. Substantial profits also accrued to the broker because there was a fee of about 10% for the sale of a CP note, twice the normal brokerage rate.
Total debt by 1995 was over Rp 1 trillion. The buyers of the CP notes were WOI and tens of state-owned and private companies. It became clear the notes could not be cashed.
Bank Indonesia, for reasons not altogether clear, increased its share holding from 38% to 51%. Then there were replacements at board level, with Bank BNI supplying the new board members. Endang Utari was among those replaced in October 1995.
It is thought that PIF still had sufficient funds to pay its debts but simply chose not to pay. So it is that the state will bear the consequences.
In March this year Endang sold some of her shares in Auric Pacific to the Lippo Group and Hotel Prapatan Jakarta. Strangely enough the proceeds of this sale of shares were not paid into Bank Pacific. None of this money went towards paying off her debts. Out of it all the state stands to lose billions of rupiah, because 51% of Bank Pacific's shares are owned by Bank Indonesia.
Suara Independen June 1997.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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What the elite do when their banks are in trouble
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Many private banks set up by Indonesia's super-wealthy in the 1980s are reeling under the weight of mismanagement. But connections sometimes allow them to evade the laws of financial gravity, as SUARA INDEPENDEN shows in these two reports.
Bank Yama, owned by Mbak Tutut, was rocked recently by non-performing loans. The main source of the problem was one of Tutut's own group of companies. To save the bank, BCA was forced to buy shares.
It's a plus to be the president's daughter in Indonesia. It gives you more scope in business. And if your business is threatened by bankruptcy because it can't pay its debts, another entrepreneur can always be induced to help out.
Siti Hardiyanti Rukmana's is a case in point. The president's first daughter, known informally as Mbak Tutut, had a mind to open a bank - when opening banks was the rage in the 1980s. And so came into being Bank Yama, to complete a line of businesses of indeterminate purpose owned by Mbak Tutut.
Defaulting
But with the subsequent hotting up of the economy and a tightening of monetary policy, many a bank got into trouble. Borrowers were defaulting everywhere, and especially prone to difficulties were banks where the management was weak. One bank with weak management was, yes, Bank Yama.
For two years it has been more dead than alive. And the reason? Mbak Tutut had been freely ordering the bank to channel loans to her Educational Television of Indonesia (TPI). The idea was to boost TPI's ability to compete with other private television companies. But, perhaps because they didn't do their sums, TPI, though inundated with loan money, continued to drag its feet and to rely heavily on equipment borrowed from state television TVRI.
Meanwhile the steady outflow of funds was hurting Bank Yama. The problem was that credit was being siphoned off not only for TPI but also for other Tutut projects, such as unprofitable toll road projects in Malaysia and the Philippines.
As a consequence, Bank Yama was soon in breach of regulations limiting the maximum volume of loans which may be made to affiliated companies. Strangely enough Bank Indonesia, which is supposed to monitor compliance with the regulations, neither issued a reprimand nor imposed sanctions, but instructed state bank BNI 1946 to provide Bank Yama with an injection of funds and to lend its managerial assistance to nurse Bank Yama back to health.
Motor on
However, the vision and direction of Bank Yama remained unchanged and the financial and management assistance was not effective. Mbak Tutut preferred to bypass these difficulties and motor on down the freeway.
Fresh funds in bigger amounts were extracted from Bank Central Asia (BCA). How could she do it? No problem. Mbak Tutut owns 17.5% of the shares in BCA, a gift from billionaire Liem Sioe Liong. In addition, her brother Sigit Hardjojudanto has an equal holding, so Mbak Tutut was able to exert enough influence to have BCA buy 25% of the shares of Bank Yama. And it was not the shares owned by Tutut which were bought, but shares owned by the Metro group and the Maruli family. Thus Tutut retained control of Bank Yama.
This case set a new precedent which is likely to furrow a lot of brows in banking circles. Yes, it's a plus to be the president's daughter in Indonesia these days. If your business fails, you can always have someone else take the rap.
Extracted from Suara Independen February 1997.
BANK PACIFIC
Bank Pacific was more fortunate than Bank Summa. Suharto intervened to defend Ibnu Sutowo and save Bank Pacific from liquidation.
The same mistake: different result. This is the experience of Bank Pacific owned by the family of Ibnu Sutowo, former managing director of Pertamina. Although the bank had problem loans in excess of Rp 2 trillion it did not have to be liquidated, closed down, declared bankrupt.
The same mistake was made some years ago by Bank Summa, owned by Edward Soerjadjaja, eldest son of tycoon William Soerjadjaja, former boss of motor major Astra International. But Edward and William, who are seen as non-indigenous entrepreneurs, were not so lucky. Bank Summa was declared bankrupt and William was obliged to surrender his shares in Astra to pay his son's debts.
In the case of Bank Pacific, Endang Utari Mokodompit, Ibnu Sutowo's daughter, didn't have to inconvenience her father like William, who had to forfeit Astra out of a parent's sense of responsibility for his son's actions.
Rescue
No sooner was it suspected that one of the companies in the group owned by the Ibnu Sutowo family had credit problems than Bank Indonesia came to the rescue at once. Then and there, state bank BNI 1946 moved in to strengthen the management, and the government administered an injection of funds through Bank Indonesia, taking up a 51% share in the ownership of Bank Pacific.
In the event, the condition of Bank Pacific was so acute that even this major involvement of government shares could not secure a recovery. Hundreds of billions, or even trillions of rupiah in obligations of the bank to its customers required urgent repayment, including commercial paper (CP) overdue for redemption.
Many commentators say that the government should have taken the same firm approach with Bank Pacific as it did with Bank Summa. Especially since the state of the Ibnu Sutowo family bank and the legal ramifications of the case were so much more serious than the situation of Edward's bank.
Economic observer Sjahrir says that it would not have been out of order for Bank Indonesia to liquidate Bank Pacific, given that there are now well established legal mechanisms providing for the closing down of a bank in extreme circumstances. 'I don't understand why the government has not been consistent in its handling of the Bank Pacific case', he said when interviewed by Suara Independen in Surakarta recently.
Influence
The reluctance of the government to shut down Bank Pacific is because its owner has such strong influence with those in authority, being one of those closest to Suharto. That's why both the Governor of Bank Indonesia and the Minster for Finance have chosen to go to ground, zip their lips and maintain their silence. Consequently speculation is rife and assumptions of the strength of the Ibnu Sutowo lobby have been confirmed.
On several occasions Mar'ie Muhammad has been reluctant to comment on the case. 'I don't want to comment and set parliament talking' is all he would say when pressed by journalists. Sjahrir has confirmed the assumptions, adding that the access and political sway of William was insignificant compared with that commanded by the owner of Bank Pacific. 'If it was good enough for them to shut down Bank Summa even before the regulations were in place, what's holding them back now?', concluded the former political activist.
Extracted from Suara Independen March 1997.
John Gare was the translator.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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The breasts of Bali
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Michel Picard, Bali: Cultural tourism and touristic culture, Singapore: Archipelago Press, 1996, 231pp Rrp: $US 25.00.
Reviewed by RON WITTON
The essential contradiction of Bali, tourism and culture is set out in the section entitled 'Cultural involution', a term borrowed from P. F. McKean, who took it from Geertz' concept of 'agricultural involution'. Picard says the term expressed a paradox: 'The Balinese ... aspire to become modern while at the same time seeking to maintain their cultural traditions, and to do so, they need money; the tourists, who are the bearers of modernisation, are drawn to Bali essentially by the wealth of its traditions; consequently, for reasons of both cultural conservation and economic necessity, the Balinese cultivate their traditions with a view to procuring the necessary means for their modernisation.'
'Thanks to this process of cultural involution, the modernisation of Balinese society may be based not on industrial production, whose destructive effects on traditional social structures is well known, but on cultural p roductions, thus permitting the establishment of a post-industrial society based on tourism services' (p111).
The horrors of modern tourism in Bali are well documented in the book. There is a description of the plans for the dreadful 125 meter gold-plated Garuda Wisnu Kencana statue, in which Wisnu rides Garuda atop an eleven storey building containing theatres, exhibition halls, amusement parks, museums, restaurants and souvenir shops (p190). Elsewhere, the new regent of Gianyar issued the startling decree to cut down all the trees along the roadsides - including some hundreds of years old - and to plant artificial gardens which made copious use of painted concrete to the most hideous effect.
Picard reflects the work of the Australian scholar Adrian Vickers on the way Bali was 'marketed' to the world. The bare breasts of Bali were used in illustrations as part of this campaign to make Bali a (male) paradise of western fantasies. Ironically, Picard says, 'today it is the Balinese, dressed from head to foot, who come to contemplate the generously exposed breasts of the foreign women' (p80).
This important book complements well the study book by John McCarthy, 'Are sweet dreams made of this?: Tourism in Bali and Eastern Indonesia' (IRIP, 1994). The latter remains the more useful for school teachers, but it is good to have a more theoretical study for tertiary level study and a general readership.
Ron Witton
rwitton@uow.edu.au
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
Tags: Bali
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Love at first sight Slorc meets Abri
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ANDREAS HARSONO visits Burma and is intrigued by the respect its military show for the Indonesian model.
The mouthpiece of the Burmese military regime, the New Light of Myanmar newspaper, in mid-1996 dubbed the relationship between Indonesia and Burma 'two nations with common identity'.
Official visits between the two governments have increased sharply since 1993. They marked not only the progress in Burma-Indonesia diplomatic ties but also the growing eagerness of the Burmese junta to copy the political system of its more established neighbour.
'No other country is closer to the regime than Indonesia,' said a senior Asian diplomat in Rangoon, adding that Indonesia is like 'a big brother' in the eyes of the Burmese generals.
The newspaper repeatedly praised the positive economic and political development in Indonesia, where the Indonesian military has the dual function of protecting the security of the state while dominating party politics as well.
High profile visits
Foreign Minister Ali Alatas and Defence Minister Edi Sudrajat visited Rangoon in February 1994 and November 1995 respectively. In August 1994 businessman Hutomo Mandala Putra of the Humpuss business group, the youngest son of President Suharto, also led a high-profile business delegation to Rangoon.
The Indonesian patriarch himself visited Burma in February 1997 in a high-profile tour during which Suharto again reiterated the fundamental creed of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean): 'We should not interfere in the affairs of our neighbours.'
His eldest daughter, Siti Hardiyanti Rukmana, who is also an influential political figure in Indonesia, accompanied her father to sign some business deals in Rangoon. Suharto even went to have a chat with Burmese behind-the-scene strongman Gen Ne Win, whom he once visited in 1974.
In return, earlier Slorc leader Senior Gen Than Shwe met Suharto in Jakarta in June 1995, while his aide, Lt-Gen Khin Nyunt, who heads the intelligence service, traveled more frequently to Jakarta.
The Burmese embassy in Jakarta is the largest among Burmese embassies in Southeast Asia, demonstrating that Jakarta is a crucial relationship for the Slorc. The Burmese ambassador to Jakarta, U Nyi Nyi Tant, a close associate of Khin Nyunt, is portrayed as the spearhead of his nation's lobbying efforts in Jakarta, which also hosts the secretariat, or headquarters, of Asean.
Why?
Why does Burma do it? Why does the Slorc want to copy the Indonesian New Order?
The easiest explanation is that both countries are ruled by military men. Southeast Asia, to which Burma belongs, has several authoritarian governments but only one military ruler to duplicate: Indonesia.
Despite homework still to solve a serious socio-economic gap, and despite the potential for a major religious conflict and political unrest, Indonesia is widely seen as one of Asia's success stories.
Burma, on the contrary, is a pariah, one of the most brutal regimes in the world. It is currently under stiff international criticism and sanctions after its refusal to transfer power to opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi of the National League for Democracy, who won the general election in 1990.
The Slorc is trying to show the international community that it is also a responsible government which is going to bring order and prosperity in Burma. But, the junta argues, first they need to silence the opposition to create political stability in Burma - just as the Indonesians did in the 1970s.
Indonesian ambassador to Burma, A Poerwanto Lenggono, said in November 1996 that the Burmese government would like to imitate the New Order of President Suharto's government in three key areas: the Indonesian state ideology, Pancasila, the 1945 constitution and the dual function of the military.
Dual function
'We didn't ask them. They imported the whole lesson, saying that they would like to learn from us. They are welcome, but we told them that each country has its own characteristics. Our experience could be adopted here [only] in accordance with the local values,' said Lenggono.
Burmese veteran journalist M C Tun confirmed that the Slorc had published the Indonesian constitution in Burmese. 'They asked people to learn from it while drafting the Burmese constitution,' he said.
Lt-Gen Khin Nyunt once indicated that as soon as the new constitution was drawn up, the Burmese armed forces, tatmadaw, which is currently ruling by decree, would hand over power to a civilian government.
One of his close associates, Brig-Gen David O Abel, said that the Slorc learns not only from Indonesia but also the 'miracle' of South Korea and other Newly Industrialised Countries. 'We can learn many good things on these studies especially Indonesia. We fought against the colonialists also to establish Myanmar. With that objective and inspiration we look at Indonesia as a model. How Indonesia gets the people united over 200 million.'
Despite skepticism over whether the Slorc intends to hand over power to the National League for Democracy of Suu Kyi, it is believed in Burma that the Indonesian constitution provides room for the military to be involved in politics.
Suu Kyi and Megawati
Of course Suu Kyi has a 'counterpart' in Indonesia. Both Suu Kyi and Indonesian opposition leader Megawati Sukarnoputri are leading pro-democracy activists in the region. And both are the daughters of charismatic fathers - President Sukarno and General Aung San - who helped free Indonesia and Burma respectively from their colonial masters after World War II.
Both daughters have emerged from the shadows of their fathers to lead opposition to two of the strongest military rulers in Southeast Asia: Megawati against President Suharto's 'New Order' in Indonesia, and Suu Kyi against the State Law and Order Restoration Council (Slorc) in Burma.
'Perhaps the similarity is that we are trying to contribute something for the future of our nations,' said Megawati, admitting that most people recognise a woman like her because of their fathers and their womanhood.
She said that both she and Suu Kyi have not only their fathers' name but also their own political struggles, stamina and determination. 'Who is Megawati without the name of Sukarno? I cannot deny that, but it is not only a matter of the surname. It depends on our personal abilities and opportunities as well,' said Megawati.
Their opponents, however, often fail to realise that these women have their own political strength. In a bid to downgrade their political influence, their military opponents pressured their media to use the names of Mrs Megawati Taufik-kiemas and Mrs Michael Aris, after their respective husbands Indonesian businessman, Taufik Kiemas and British scholar Dr Michael Aris, rather than their maiden names, which connect them to their fathers in the public's mind.
Technocrats
Suu Kyi herself said that one of the most visible differences between the Slorc and the New Order is the employment of western-educated technocrats such as economists and social engineers. 'The Slorc does not trust intellectuals,' the winner of the 1991 Nobel Peace prize said. 'Intellectuals who are trying to say something rational could be easily accused of planning a plot against them. They could end up in jail.'
President Suharto has worked closely with Indonesian technocrats since he rose to power in 1965. He led the military's work on political issues while the economists drafted all monetary and economic policy.
Most of those, like Prof Widjojo Nitisastro, who headed the economic team, were alumni of University of Berkeley of the United States. Critics later called them 'Berkeley Mafia' because of their shrouded but effective influence over the national development policy.
The Slorc, however, has nobody like Prof Nitisastro on their team. Asian diplomats to Rangoon call most of the Slorc generals 'ignorant,' although Khin Nyunt and Minister for National Planning and Economic Development Brig-Gen David Abel have both won kudos because of their workaholic personalities.
'Abel is the smartest guy within the Slorc. Khin Nyunt is not really smart, but he is a workaholic. He knows a lot because he heads the intelligence service,' said a diplomat.
An observer in Jakarta said it is impossible for the Slorc to follow the Indonesian path if they do not use technocrats. 'As long as we are talking about free markets and capitalism, which I believe is being implemented by the Slorc now, we have to use the technocrats.'
Bandung 1955
Megawati cautiously said that the Slorc brought Burma far from the spirit of the Asia-Africa Declaration signed in Bandung, Indonesia, in 1955 by world leaders from Asia and Africa. 'Democracy is partly the idea of independence. It is true now that Burma has no democracy and that we should help Burmese people to fight for democracy.'
'It doesn't mean that I want to interfere in Burma's internal affairs, but the common platform is the Asia-Africa Declaration. We have to remind the Slorc about the spirit of the declaration.'
'If we compare Burma and South Africa in 1955, we realise that now Burma is left far behind, while South Africa under President Nelson Mandela has already solved its most crucial problem and prepared to face globalisation.'
Tactic
Others said that the Slorc's attempt was merely a tactic to seek help from Indonesia to sponsor Burmese membership in Asean, which was opposed by several member nations.
The Slorc was believed to be 'more than eager' to join Asean in a bid to get a measure of regional support while it faced international condemnation from Western countries like the United States, and European countries that have sometimes imposed official bans to discourage investment in Burma.
Asean members - which include Brunei, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam - were divided on the timing of the Burmese membership. Indonesia and Malaysia agreed on letting Burma join Asean in 1998, while the Philippines, Thailand and Singapore had reservations. But they finally agreed in an informal meeting in November 1996 in Jakarta to welcome Burma as well as Cambodia and Laos in 1998.
When Asean countries officially accepted Burma to join their ranks in an Asean summit in Kuala Lumpur in July 1997, many felt it would send a dangerous signal to Rangoon that it could continue to ignore demands for the transfer of power to civilians and to abuse human rights. Indonesia, at that point, would share the responsibility and blame.
Andreas Harsono is a freelance journalist in Jakarta.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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Death of a journalist
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'I write the truth and if I have to die for it, well so be it' wrote Udin shortly before he died. AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL investigates.
Fuad Muhammad Syafruddin, 33, also known as Udin, worked for 10 years as a journalist on Bernas, a daily newspaper in Yogyakarta, Central Java. In the months before he died, many of his articles had exposed corruption in the Regency - or local government - of Bantul, including in relation to land deals and the election of officials.
His reports had focused particularly on the activities of the head - or Regent - of Bantul, Colonel Sri Roso Sudarmo, and had alleged that the Regent had bribed a foundation headed by Indonesian President Suharto, the Dharmais Foundation, to secure his reappointment as the Regent in 1996.
Prior to his death, Udin had complained of receiving anonymous threats and of being harassed apparently because of his articles. District officials had apparently contacted him about his writing, and there are reports that a local government meeting in Bantul had recommended that Udin be taken to court for libel.
He had also been asked on a number of occasions to come to the local military headquarters for an informal meeting with the commander.
The day before he was attacked, there were also reports of unidentified men asking about Udin's whereabouts in the area where he lived. On several occasions, Udin had taken his complaints about harassment to the Yogyakarta branch of the Legal Aid Institute (LBH).
Bleeding
On 13 August 1996, around 10.30 pm, two men came to Udin's house in Bantul and he met with them outside his house. After a short time, Ny Marsiyem, Udin's wife, heard a noise and went outside and found her husband lying on the ground bleeding from his ears. Udin was rushed to hospital with head and internal injuries. He never regained consciousness and died on 16 August 1996.
An investigation into Udin's death began, involving the Bantul police, the Yogyakarta Police and the police for Central Java. At an early stage in the investigation, the police ruled out the possibility of a political motive for the killing.
Instead they concluded that Udin was involved in an extra-marital affair and that he was killed by the jealous husband. The police initially claimed that Udin had had an affair with a woman named Tri Sumaryani. However this scenario was discounted after Tri Sumaryani told the press that she had been offered financial inducements to confess the affair.
Alcohol
On 21 October the police arrested Dwi Sumaji, 37, a driver for an advertising company, as he was getting on a bus in Sleman, Yogyakarta. Dwi Sumaji ('Iwik') claimed he was driven around the city and forced to drink beer until he felt intoxicated. He was then taken to a beach resort hotel at Parangtritis in Bantul where he was forced to drink more alcohol. He was then offered money, a better job and a prostitute if he confessed to killing Udin.
He was taken into police custody and his family were formally informed of his arrest. The following day, the police announced the arrest. They also said that they had found a 35 centimetre iron bar, allegedly used in the murder, and some clothing at the suspect's house. Later the police claimed that the iron-bar and a T-shirt were stained with Udin's blood.
Udin's wife, who had answered the door to the two men on the night of the attack, claimed that Dwi Sumaji was not one of the two men, and insisted that the police had not arrested the right man. In the week following his arrest, Dwi Sumaji was able to obtain independent legal counsel through whom he claimed that he did not kill Udin. Dwi Sumaji's wife maintained that he was with her on the night of the murder.
Largely because of the level of outrage surrounding the police handling of the murder investigation, Dwi Sumaji was released from police custody on 18 December 1996 but remained a suspect. On four separate occasions, the case was rejected by the prosecutors on the grounds that there was not sufficient evidence to bring Dwi Sumaji to trial for murder. However, the police refiled the case for a fifth time and on this occasion it was accepted.
Sacrificed
The trial of Dwi Sumaji began on 29 July 1997. Speaking in court on 5 August, Dwi Sumaji stated that he had been framed by the police: 'I have been sacrificed for a political business and to protect a political mafia'.
Indonesia's National Commission on Human Rights has criticised the police handling of the case and has repeatedly made statements questioning whether the police arrested the right man. Amnesty International is calling on the Indonesian Government to re-open the investigation into the death of Udin and for the investigation to be thorough and impartial.
Extracted from a forthcoming Amnesty International report on Udin and another journalist apparently killed for his investigative work, Naimullah.
Inside Indonesia 52: Oct-Dec 1997
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